A Little Bit of Crazy

I have this theory:  Everyone has a little bit of crazy in them.  Maybe your little bit of crazy is that you freak out over things that aren't important or that haven't even happened yet. 
Maybe you love to eat Ketchup packets.
Maybe you absolutely have to follow up the scratch of an itch on your left cheek with the scratch of a non-existent itch on your right cheek (to keep things even, of course). 
Maybe you need your blanket smoothed and pillows placed at a 47 degree angle or your mojo is thrown off for the entire day.
Maybe you have to eat the best bite first.
Or last.

Whatever your little bit of crazy may happen to be, the point it - it's there.  You can't deny it. 

Confession time.

My little bit of crazy is that I love repetition.  Freaking love it.

One of the biggest things I love about making moccasins is the repetition of sewing shoe after shoe on the machine.  There's something almost meditative about it.  I could probably lock myself in my office all day and sew my life away.  I must have been a factory worker in my past life. 

Here's the problem with that:  I have a family.  Who needs me.  Like, needs me - I'm totally working on helping them with the whole "self-sufficiency" thing, but other than just that, they need my presence.

They actually miss me after dinner when they're playing outside together and I'm in my office sewing away in my trance, 

But I love this little business of creating things and the connections to all of the wonderful people I've met while on this journey.

So, I've come up with an amazing solution.  One that allows me to be more physically present with the people who need me most, but still allows me to create. 

Best of all - this solution is ME.  It is my family.  It is probably you.  And your family too.  It is something that speaks to me the way Mocc Life never has.  It is not just a little change in direction.  It is a movement.  A movement for everyone who's longing for the things my family dreamed of before I was caught up in the whirlwind of this (not so) little mocc shop. 

And I think I love it already.

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Can You Imagine?

Can you imagine going through the entire day without checking your phone?

Your email? Your facebook?  Your instagram?

Can you imagine a question entering your mind and taking the time to really ponder the thought without immediately reaching out to Siri or Google?

Can you imagine an entire day of ignoring deadlines? Of not replying to texts? Of not picking up your phone once?

Can you imagine an entire day of staying in your usual environment, but actually being there?  Of being present in every moment?

Of lying on the grass, looking at the clouds for an hour like we did when we were kids?

An entire day of laughing as the children cover themselves in mud.  Jump in all the leaf piles. Catching beetles and lizards?

Can you imagine an entire day of reading stories to your children, picking flowers, and examining cicada skins?

For a while now, I've been walking in a fog of busy.

I like to think of it like Pig Pen from Charlie Brown - but what's been swirling around me is a storm of preoccupation, stress, and "to-do's."

I've been working so hard to try to give my children a good life that I didn't realize that what I've actually been doing is taking their good life away.

The seldom spend time - real, quality downtime with both parents any more.  We've become sort of a tag-team operation, Jon and I.  I multitask while half-heatedly entertaining them while he's at work, and after dinner, we slap hands as I pass the evening entertainment duties on to him so that I can work.

My heart is always there, but I'm ashamed to say - my head hasn't been for a while.
I haven't been able to imagine leaving my phone behind, or really logging out for fear of missing an email or customer for quite some time, but you know what?

I can imagine now.

I really can.
 
And it excites me.  

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Home School Room Tour

While we were homeschooling, our dining room became the home school room.
I'm of the opinion that formal dining rooms are a complete waste of square footage anyway. They end up being used maybe 3 holidays a year (if it's your turn to host) - so I had no qualms about using the space for something else.

I wanted the space to be cozy and fun, keeping in mind that it was right near our front door, so it couldn't look too much like a "classroom."

Our favorite spot was definitely the teepee.  We used Ambleside Online curriculum, so there were lots of cozy reading sessions in that teepee.

Yep.  I'm definitely going to miss homeschooling....

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Because....

Because the moments are passing me by and I've been too "busy" to document them.

Every day when I wake up my children have changed a tiny bit more.  New teeth are missing, new teeth are growing.  Haircuts, tan lines, baby chub, voice tone - all changing daily.

Sure, it's not enough to notice on the regular.....
 but when you are mindful.

When you take the time to document - or realize that you haven't been taking the time to document.

It's more than enough to notice.

So it's time I get back to practicing mindfulness.

Because I want to remember that time they slathered themselves in shaving cream, and look back on these pictures and laugh - and so will they.

And so will their future wives. 

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A Secret Spot

We're explorers by nature.  All of us.  

Sometimes I wish we'd lived a couple hundred years ago - back when there was still so much territory to be charted, but we're too late.  Everything has already been discovered and claimed, but not by us. So somehow we find ourselves constantly on a mission.  To turn over new stones, follow forgotten paths, and wade in fresh waters. 

When the hubs heard about a new "secret" fishing spot, we had to check it out.  We took some poles and a picnic dinner and explored to our hearts' content.  

The fish weren't biting, but the water was littered with jelly fish.  We ate alongside pelicans and crabs, searched for shells, and picked flowers.  When we headed home, our bucket was empty and our feet were filthy, but our hearts were full.

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Growth

These days I find myself thinking of how quickly my boys are growing.

As a child, I remember feeling like everything took forever - the school years took too long, yet the summers seemed endless.  Waiting for a birthday seemed equal to waiting on the apocalypse.  I would suppose it to be old age (at 10, isn't that what your 30's are?), but what's really making the time speed by is motherhood.

You know the old addage, "The days are long, but the years are short?"  I've found few things to be more true.
While it's exciting to watch as Bates learns to run, jump, and climb, I can't help feeling an ache as I realize that my last (?) baby has become a toddler.

It is Bent, though, that gives me that hollow feeling in the the pit of my stomach.

Bent, my first baby.

The most wonderful child in the entire world (as most first-born's tend to be called).
The sweet, witty, little empath of a boy with the big brown eyes is beginning to gain real, true independence.

He is becoming too cool for bedtime stories (to be quite honest, I know he still likes them, but he has to put on that they are boring, lest he be considered a baby), but the day is coming when he genuinely won't want to snuggle up with his mama and read books, and I'm not ready for it.
He wants to play in his room alone and close the door, so as not to be disturbed by his baby brother, and some days he just "doesn't feel like" going outside with all of us.

This time of transition is exciting, though, as I watch him push himself to new limits, physically and mentally.  I no longer have to be the one to offer him a new challenge - he does it on his own - finding new ways to to test himself constantly.

He is finding himself - trying on new hats.  Though some hats tend to sting a little (the attitude hat, the go-against-the-grain hat, the your-suggestions-are-lame hat), he must try them all on in order to find out who he really is.

But I know who he really is.

I see his heart, and it is so very, very good.

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The Magic of Winter

The colder weather has been working its magic on us.  

The way someone up north would be looking forward to spring, we long for winter.  

Once the days of sandy toes and sunkissed cheeks are gone, much the way someone with straight hair wishes for curls, we can think of nothing but the white winter we know will never arrive.  

There's just something about sweating in a pair of shorts and a tank top in December that doesn't feel right.  So when the slightest chill comes along, we head outside and breathe in the crisp cool air, play in the leaves, and don our hats and jackets wishing everyday felt this way.

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