More Minimalism

I have already committed to buying no new yarn in 2011. I am going to use up my stash, finding projects that really appeal to me and the yarn I already have.

And then I found this: Minimalist Knitter. It's like it was meant to be. Now I have somewhere to turn when I get discouraged, or distracted by all that yummy, shiny, squishy soft yarn!

What I Want For 2011

Less stuff.

I started with 2010 being my year to get organized. I got there...sort of. I really purged my closet, though I admit it needs another visit whereby I have a serious talk with myself about how much clothing I really need. I joined Paperbackswap and have purged a lot of my books. And even though I have requested some in return, not only do I have fewer books, I have saved money on buying those books. I somewhat organized the spare bedroom, got my yarn organized, labeled and in storage bins and hubby got the garage in shape but I still feel like I can do so much better.

In many ways I already have a minimalist outlook: I rarely wear makeup and have very little of that in my drawer. As a family, we use primarily castile soap for all our body and hair washing needs. With my short hair I don't need brushes or hairdriers or styling tools. I only carry one purse/diaper bag combo for myself and my toddler. It's an everyday bag. From the moment he was born I refused to be that woman that carried not only her purse, her child on her hip, but also a bag as large as her car trunk full of more stuff. Only one time can I think where that was an issue and we were saved because in the car was a sweater my son could wear after blowing out his diaper in public.

I have found a couple of website to help me take the next steps, to keep me inspired and to lift me up when I lose my way: miss minimalist and the minimalist mom and frugal babe. They all have gone through this, they all have different outlooks, needs and takes on the subject and I think I will find my own way with a combination of their advice.

Everyone has to define what they need. And that is where I can get stumped. I know, I know, start small and work from there.

I know that I don't need as many books as I have. But I really love to read. It's a stress reliever and a hobby and ebooks just don't do it for me. They don't. So, keep the books I really really really love, swap the rest, borrow some and do without others. How many books is that though?

And yarn. Oh, the yarn. I'm a knitter and I have too much yarn. I have already committed to not purchasing any yarn in 2011. I am going to use up as much of my stash as I can. I felt a little bit of panic when I made this decision but now it feels really good. I know I have way more yarn than I need to keep me busy for the year and I have a large variety of yarn so I know I won't get bored with it. Ok then, so when I whittle down the stash, what is the appropriate amount to keep on hand? One medium rubbermaid tub of yarn and needles? (I currently have about 5-6 tubs of the same size full of yarn.)

And what about the random items? Meaning, I have a torn meniscus. I have a doctor prescribed fancy knee brace and an everyday one that stays in my purse. To me, those are necessary. I think we have way too many towels but I don't think the hubby will agree to getting rid of a lot of them. My camera. I must have it. Not because I have to fill paper albums full of pictures, but because I will record my son as he grows up. Most of those photos end up on Facebook for out of town family to watch him grow as well. The picnic backpack: we haven't used it, will we really?

As I sit here and think about stuff, much comes to mind that I can toss: the whole junk drawer with the exception of the Sharpie marker. The extra wine openers that we hate and never use. So many juice and drinking glasses we never touch. The boxes of stuff in the attic that have gone through two moves and never been opened.

I want less stuff because I really do think it will make my life easier. Can I do without a car and the TV? Not right now. But there is plenty of stuff I can live without right now that needs to go. Then I can focus on the weightier issues.

I'm off to look at the calendar to find a day in January I can take off of work and get started.

Owning My Choices

The Own Your Beauty movement has really gotten me thinking lately. Owning my choices is a complimentary concept. Everyone makes them, everyone has them, and we all try to choose what we think is best for our own development, happiness, comfort, health, etc. Just because someone chooses a different path than we do does not make them any less valuable or interesting.

Long ago I realized that the choices that I have made --good or bad, right or wrong-- have molded me into the person I am today. Most of the time I like that person. Therefore, those choices were the ones that needed to made. Had a made a different choice, I might not be the same me. I know that there are always going to be people who do not agree with the choices that I make, and I have made peace with that.

I encourage every woman to own her choices. There is a freedom in owning the choices that you have made. It settles the skin a little more solidly on the bones.

Many times I feel the need to justify a decision I made to strangers or acquaintances. That needs to stop. No one has the full story except me. And as long as I made the decision as best I could for myself, I don't need to let anyone judge me for it.

So go ahead; own that choice you just made. I sure did when I hit the publish post button.

Own Your Beauty: Through His Eyes

I try to accept myself for the way I look. I try to see myself as unique and beautiful in my own way. Sometimes I fail.

Then I remember: in his eyes I am beautiful.

In his eyes, I sing the best songs ever. I can make magical things appear out of my bag. I can turn any activity - like taking off clothes - into a silly song and game.

In his eyes I am there to carry him when he is tired and kiss him when he hurts. I make food magically appear when he needs it and join him in dancing to the ring of a cell phone.

When he looks at me, he sees no flaws, no marks that don't belong there, nothing that makes me less than whole.

I try to see myself through his eyes. And I know that I am beautiful.

Her Hands Are Now My Hands

I can look at my hands and see my mother. Hers are often arthritic and swollen, knobbly and housework roughened. However, as I bathe my young son in the bathtub, I can perfectly picture my mother doing the same thing to her son 50 years ago. My hands become hers; my love, the same she felt.

Her hands tell her story. Every time I look at her hands I can see her past and my future.

I can see the children she tended and the dishes she washed.

The sheets she folded and the scraped knees she bandaged.

The items she slings across the register as a nighttime cashier and the grandchildren she cuddles in close for hugs.

She was born in 1939. Her life hasn't always been an easy one.  She's seen several wars and lived on more than one continent. She's rasied four children. She's had to learn when to hold on and when to let go.

She isn't traditionally or classically pretty as society would define. I would offer a picture but she hates to have hers taken even more than I do. But she is my mom and she is beautiful to me as mothers are to their children.

Her hair may be gray and her body saggier than it used to be, yet she still wrestles in the floor with her grandchildren and is quick to spout off a sassy one liner.

I see beauty and grace in every one of the knobs and lines on her hands. I see her.

Adventures in Parenting

Recently my husband decided he needed a new/new-to-him car. Not just any new car, he really wants a Land Rover. Oooh. Aahh. Yeah whatever.

So, I indulge this little fantasy and off we go to the dealership a few weekends ago. Child is up from his nap, snacks loaded in my bag, and we are off.

Originally we go there to look at one specific vehicle; it has been sold but not removed from the website. I tell him to look at a few others I knew he was interested in. I am feeding my child, singing to him, talking with him, all the while keeping him in his carseat thinking we would be leaving rather quickly. Next thing I know, husband is pulling off in a Range Rover for a test drive.

Hello? Fine. So out of the car we both go to enjoy the 78 ish degree day. My son recently learned to enjoy grass, he used to hate the very sight of it and would not step onto it even in shoes. Husband comes back and wants me to review said car he just drove. So while he and the sales guy continue to look at vehicles and I interject pointed questions, I also run around after my child to make sure he does not run down the hill and into traffic.

Sales guy goes inside to get information. By this time I am getting to be a grumpy, sweaty mess and the child isn't really happy either. I ask if we can go inside to get some air conditioning. I get cooler air but continue to run around after the child by myself as husband is in a euphoric coma-like state while surrounded by Land Rover vehicles.

Finally we all decide to go look at a few other vehicles. As my husband and the sales guy turn and head to the door what does my child say:

"Mama. Poo-poo diaper."

And proceeds to flop down onto the dealership floor and roll around while he tells me we need to "clack-clack" (slang in our house for diaper change) rather loudly. Husband and sales guy are more than halfway to the door, two older salesmen are nearby and staring at me and my child rolling around in their fancy dealership floor.

So what do I do...I double over in laughter. What else can I do? When teaching potty training, one must be open to embarassment of any kind.

Oh, and no, husband ultimately did not purchase the Land Rover, or Range Rover...out of price range. (Coulda told you that!!)

Dear Panera Manager,

Thank you for asking before acting. We ate at your fine establishment last night and as we were leaving my exuberant 21 month old was running along to the front doors and decided that the door stops were the most exciting toy of the evening. One of your cashiers called out to us how sweet and adorable he was and we all stopped to chat as he banged happily away on the front doors and greeted those individuals coming in for their dinner or evening dessert.

Then you asked me if it was ok for him to have a cookie. Apparently your store had inadvertently baked an overabundance of cookies and you were giving some away for free.

Not only do I appreciate the gesture of a free cookie, I appreciate you asking if it was ok for him to have one first. He may have had allergies or I may not want him to eat sweets. So thank you for your generosity and your thoughfulness.