Comfort and Joy: or the very real craziness behind our Christmas Card

Sometimes you want to keep it real, and sometimes you want to make it look like you have it all together. Christmas card 2016 looks pretty idyllic. But if every picture tells a story, this Christmas card is telling a tall tale!

The vision in my head wasn’t clear to begin with. Some years I know exactly what the photo will look like, and sometimes I’m a little looser with the project, and since a big part of Christmas this year for me was learning to let go of perfectionism, I was making myself be okay with my lack of vision.

I saw another photo displayed in my house that was taken in our yard, and I thought that angle would be great. My son went to the UK last summer, so everyone has a Scottish plaid scarf. That started to form an idea. I have adorable kitten heel red plaid shoes, maybe plaid is our theme. What’s a Christmas greeting that rhymes with plaid? (That sounds a little like perfectionism doesn’t it?)

In any case, when you have a barn in your backyard, you do have a head start on the location for the shoot. And I knew we had a bale of hay in the barn we could use as a seat, and a plaid wool blanket we could sit on (perfectionism! called it!)

As has happened in the past few years, with our older kids working, and involved in school activities, we had one, three hour window of time, exactly two weeks before Christmas! A nail biter! We bailed on church that morning even though it was my turn to teach Sunday School because of a blizzard that was supposed to last all day. We still tried to make a plan for the day, and I told everyone to show up in a dark sweater and a plaid scarf at 2pm. At 1:55, with my make-up perfectly applied and everyone dressed in a sweater, Jeff came in from his first pass with the snowblower, sweaty, and unbelieving that I was still planning to go through with it.

Unfortunately, although he had been out in the storm for over an hour and was pretty clear on how nasty it was, I had no idea it was anything but a picturesque Michigan snowfall. He said it was sleeting. I said we were dressed. I may have cried. I for sure yelled. Marriage is not for sissies.

In the midst of this, our youngest, who has special needs is not coping well at all. He does best with a plan, and the blizzard changed every single plan we had for that day. And he does not entertain himself well (read: at all). So he was melting down. Ears turning red, voice going up a few octaves, and decibels.

But this is go time. It’s now or never. We grabbed the plaid blanket out of the car. We rubber-banded the cellphone to a tripod. We put that rigged up contraption inside a rough tote so it wouldn’t be sleeted on. Within seconds of being outside I realized my husband was right, this was NOT Christmas photo weather! We were being soaked! The sleet hurt. It was polar vortex bitter cold. There was no last minute throwing off the coat to look cute in a sweater. We used a self-timer and got a few shots, none of the them great, but there was no way to really know because despite the snow, our own family meltdown was rapidly occurring!

Back inside I used a Groupon and purchased pictures from PhotoAffections (with whom I have no affiliation, or sponsorship). I chose one of the designs on the first page without scrolling through all the options as in past years, and set up my card in less than a minute (take that perfectionism!). I sent it through that night, and by Tuesday morning, no kidding, I had the most beautiful box of 100 cards delivered. Oh happiness!

Then all we had to contend with was that our computer reverted our mailing list back to 2012, and had lost all changes and additions since that time. Oh well!

Right now I’m telling myself no card next year. They’re expensive, it’s hard to get us all together, and my youngest just doesn’t thrive well in family photo situations. But my memory’s not great, so who knows? 

If I had one piece of advice for a Christmas Card that will be a winner, I'd say stick to one photo, don't be lured into thinking more is better. And also that that one photo might just come from the middle of a meltdown, and it might just be okay. So that's two pieces of advice. But I think that second bit applies to life too, if you think about it!

Coloring

It’s beginning to look a lot like Valentine’s Day!

I’ve been having some fun setting up little Valentiney vignettes in my dining room and living room. It’s not that I think it’s necessary to go all out for every holiday, but it’s so nice to have a little something to brighten things up here at Mayday Farm In February, in Michigan. And although many may throw shade over the day for being a holiday made up by the greeting card industry, what’s wrong with celebrating love?

One of my favorite decorations this year is one that I made last year with my Playgroup Girls. We became friends when we had little babies who needed socialization (or was that us?). But we have way more fun now that those kids have graduated high school, and we just make crafts, eat, drink coffee and TALK!!!

Last year my friend Kelly bought us all a picture frame, and she bought pretty scrapbooking type papers and heart punches. (The host supplies the craft.) We spent hours punching out the hearts and endlessly rearranging them. Then we would check our inspiration pictures on Pinterest. Then we would talk about how we liked the other two girls’ projects better than our own (we really do! I always like theirs better anyway, maybe they're just humoring me?).

This year a study came out about how relaxing coloring in a coloring book is, even for grown-ups. We now often refer to what we do as “coloring.” Coloring is our term for the process. The process of deciding, for me, that I would do mostly neutral hearts, with one main pop of color. The process for one of them that she would fold her hearts to pop out a little (I think Kelly).  And there was the process of the other deciding that she would choose the most vivid, beautiful colors (I think Jill). They were all beautiful, but we all truly agonized over these simple choices. It is nice that we have figured out it’s a beautiful agony, a luxury of choices, and arranging and rearranging is what it’s all about.

Coloring. Try it!

Just an empty heart candy box made this space festive and pretty.

I've been buying flowers every week, $3.99 for beautiful winter sunshine!

Just a fairy doll my daughter outgrew popped into a teapot. Love the excuse to use pink this time of year!

Buried Treasure

Every Monday morning I create the week’s menu.  I’m not the world’s most organized person, but this is one bit of structure that I can do, and I DO do.   My daughter has just started Community College, and I consider this a sort of homemaking lesson for her, as we do it together on her non-school days. 

We make a menu, then a list, and leave on our errands.  We start our errands with a trip to Starbucks, my treat.  “Spoonful of sugar “and all that! Our journey takes us to Trader Joe’s, my preferred grocery, plus one other stop for “fill-in” items I can’t get at T-Joe’s, (as my kids call it).  I am trying to get on a rotating schedule of Costco one week (which I hate), or Kroger (which I hate), or Meijer’s (a local chain), or Target (hey, I don’t hate Target!).  We also sneak in a trip to the local bookmobile for a fix.  Shopping with Indigo has made this hated job so much more tolerable.

This week I made the snap decision at T-Joe’s that I would not buy potatoes for tonight’s Pot Roast, but would instead dig up the potatoes in our patch in the yard.  This was a tough decision because as far as I can tell, this was our last precious potato plant, and I am a little bit of a hoarder.  Not the keep all the boxes, and stacks of newspaper kind, but this particular perfectionist kind of hoarder. My hoarder thinking is that if I use the potatoes today, I might want them for something else in the future. Something better. So I never use them.  However with cold weather having arrived, I did not want to lose this plant full of starchy goodness and got over myself.

And then I forgot that I made that decision.  As I do.  I put the roast in at three, showing Indigo which pan I use (it was Great Grandma's), how much liquid and which seasonings I use.  I explained that we would begin vegetable prep at 4:30, so that they can roast with the meat for at least an hour.  She then reminded me of the happily forgotten information, “and you will need to dig up the potatoes…” 

Crap.

I woke up at 2:30 a.m. that morning not to fall back to sleep again.  I am running on empty, and it just started to rain.  It is gray and cold, and I don’t have a plan B.  I don’t WANT to go digging in the garden in the rain!  I decided it would be better to just get it over with and just dig up the potatoes. 

And then it happened.  Digging up potatoes must be done delicately so that you don’t damage them.  And you never know how many there will be.  Each little round, white discovery is exciting. It really makes you feel like a child digging for buried treasure, but this time you’re finding it!  And then I feel exceedingly joyful.  I don’t know if it’s ego making me feel cool, or if it’s the anticipation of how very, very delicious potatoes taste this fresh out of the ground (they are INCREDIBLY delicious), or if there is something programmed deeply within our DNA, that makes eating food that we have had a part in growing or harvesting just feels good.  Or playing in the dirt? Probably some of each. I don’t know, but it’s good stuff.  

Union Jack Table

It's so shiny, it's hard to see the table!

This is my first Blag.  A blag, as I mentioned in my last post,  is a cross between a blog entry, and just flat out bragging.  It is a blag because I want to show you and tell you about the Union Jack table I made!

First I need to tell you that I am a reluctant Anglophile.  Why reluctant?  Anglophilia can be very annoying.  When someone is so very, very in love with someplace that they are NOT most of the time, it sends the message that they are dissatisfied with where they are.  It is not fun to be with people who imply dissatisfaction.  I was perfectly happy to simply admire England politely from afar, until I went there.

And I fell deeply in love.  I fell in love with the draperies, and the manners, and even the food.  I loved the shops and the tea and of course the scones!  I overlooked the toilets (they don’t flush), the fashion (it doesn’t exist), and the cake icing (it is crunchy, like they haven’t discovered confectioner’s sugar).

I stayed in the beautiful countryside known as the Cotswolds for a week.  I never, not once, took a step into London, and I was okay with that.  I still am.  I wouldn’t mind going someday, but I don’t mind that I didn’t.  That’s how beautiful the Cotswolds were. 

Now that I’ve been, I can recognize a British room in a decorating magazine just by looking at it.  The same goes for illustrations in children’s books.  I identify with the quote, “I am not the same for having seen the moon shine from the other side of the world” –  by Mary Anne Radmacher

You know my inspiration, now on to the table.  I found this table in the basement of my first flat.  I painted it a teal-ish faux marble back then.   Faux painting was huge! Later I planned to make it a  game table with a painted-on game board, but I guess I just pooped out after covering it with off-white paint. After sitting around all pathetic and off-white for a while I decided I wanted to do a Union Jack design, but I did not want to be literal with the colors.  I LOVE scrapbook paper and went to the store and found an antique red patterned paper, and a white paper with a blue design.   I decided to paint on a black background.

I then discovered that the Union jack design is not as simple as I thought!  Some of the white stripes are wide, and some are narrow.  I am mathematically challenged, and my table was not the same size ratio as the flag, so I could not re-create it exactly.

I used Modge Podge to stick the design down, and  covered the whole table, with several coats. I let the paper edges stick over the table, and used a nail file to file the edges.  I was going to touch up the paint on the sides but realized in what my husband referred to as the ultimate in pre-planning (since I had first painted the table more than 20 years ago), the layers of paint underneath exactly matched the colors in my project.  I loved the way it looked with the colors peek-a-booing through the black, and I left them.

This was supposed to be the end.  But it failed.  The Modge Podge was simply not enough.  The pieces were coming up and I realized that it was time to venture into the world of epoxy!

Masked off, ready to pour epoxy

I bought the epoxy at the home improvement store.  I then masked off the table legs with an old plastic table cloth and masking tape.  I followed the directions, and in my bathroom, poured the epoxy.  I used an IKEA squeegee to help the epoxy along.

Here’s what I would do differently next time.  #1)  Use a table with a removable top.  I was afraid to leave the masking paraphernalia on because it would attach to the epoxy, but I ended up taking it off too soon.  If I could have just poured over a table top and let it drip, it would have been better  #2)  I would not do it in the bathroom.  Basement?  Maybe.  But not the bathroom.  I don’t love that room, but I also don’t love the dried blob of epoxy in the shower.

Top view which shows the wet-looking areas where seepage occurred

It was really, really, really hard not to touch the epoxy.  After a few days, it was super smooth, super hard, and super cool.  There are flaws.  Some of the epoxy flowed under the paper making it look permanently water damaged, but I kind of like the look, it looks like an old flag.  I also have a drip or two of epoxy down the sides.  All in all, I love it, and the kids can’t stop touching the epoxy, it’s SO smooth.  I can’t wait to do the next one!

Time to Come Clean

I don’t know why I feel like the world needs to know my shortcomings.  Maybe in the near future I would like to do some braggy blogs, which I will now refer to as blags.  I will show pictures of my house, or my children and I will make you think that life here is incredible.  So here’s the honest truth.

Fake

I am a terrible housekeeper.  Oh I have known worse, my house is not up for an episode of hoarders!  Here’s how it is though - in a spell of nice weather today I decided to really, really clean my house.  I started with my kitchen bathroom and decided to backtrack and stock all my bathrooms with toilet paper.  Except I can’t.  Because I don’t.  Have.  Any.  Toilet paper.  Literally not one square in my house.  I am not talking about having no extra rolls.   I have three bathrooms, and an empty roll is on each toilet paper roller.

I have excuses.  We have been sick.  We haven’t been to the store, and some family members have probably been using it for facial tissue.  One of my children has been having some serious issues that have been taking up a lot of mental space.  But we know that this is outrageous don’t we?

My feelings about cleaning range from being in awe of those who can keep a clean house.  Dynamic, energetic, organized people.  Detail oriented people.  Hat’s off to them, I would like some of that.  But there’s a little part of me, not the good part of me, that thinks I have more important things to do.   That’s right, I think that I should not have to clean because my skills could be better used decorating a cake or sewing curtains, or painting something black.

Which means…that I think that someone else who doesn’t have all my “skills” should be here cleaning my mess for me.  Not consciously.  There is no human being that I know of that I think is less than me and should be here putting things to rights, and buying me some freaking TP for Pete’s sake (except for my husband, who just did, I digress).  But subconsciously, yes.  I want a maid. 

Since I don’t have a maid, I will make up for my lack of housekeeping by taking great photos.  I will focus on a current project, and you will not see the top of my dresser piled with clothes.  Except for today.  Today I will post the Christmas picture I took of my kids a few years ago, totally set up and fake.  I will also show the photo I took a few weeks later, without planning, I took a “real” photo of life at our house.

Real

Thanks for indulging my dirty secret.

I haven't the Bloggiest

My first blog entry tells the story of how my family came to live at Mayday Farm.  I was happy with my first entry but it leaves me wondering, what next?  And that’s when I answer myself (not out loud, mind you), I haven’t the bloggiest.

There will be stories about how we have spent the last 7 years turning this wreck of an historic house into our home, bit by painful bit.   But there will be more! I am very crafty (you can take that how you want to) so look for craft projects.  I am a thoughtful parent of three children, two of whom have special needs.  I usually love to cook (although I am on a non-cooking jag right now), I love to throw great parties:  dinner parties, kid’s birthday parties, school event parties, I love photography and pursued it even before the advent of the digital era, I enjoy making fun-looking cakes but not at the cost of taste or texture, I am a spiritual person who is always trying to be a better person to mixed results, and I love parentheses and run-on sentences.

I guess today I will tell you a little more about the farmhouse.   We made our decision to go ahead and buy it partially based on the fact that there were not, to our knowledge, any homeless people or raccoons living in the house.  I ask you, is that how you make the choice to buy a house?

On our thirty page punch list of things to fix on our house, they did not list that the roof leaked.  We knew the roof was old, but thought that it could wait a little while, and that a 30 page list was pretty extensive and thorough, so surely if we needed a new roof they would have told us, right?  (And stop calling me Shirley!)  We thought our priorities were a new furnace and central air which is essential, since most of the windows in the house did not (actually, still do not) open.  Every time we heard it start to rain at night we would bolt out of bed and put buckets out in the hall, and in our daughter’s room.  That quickly put “roof” up at the top of the list!

I had read books by designers, notably Tracy Porter about the joys of living in an old house.  Somehow I missed the part in her book when after she had children she moved to a new house and gave it old house personality, because really old houses are not child friendly!  I wish I knew that then!  Or do I?  Today I read a list of 23 Adult Truths on my friend’s Facebook wall.  Number 10 is that Bad Decisions make good stories.  I think ultimately deciding to buy this house was a bad decision, but would I trade my good stories for a simple ranch house?  It depends on what day you ask.

The Origins of Mayday Farm

My husband Jeff and I have always been attracted to old houses.  Our first apartment was a lower flat in an old house.  No cookie cutter apartment for us.  There was no real bedroom, but it had a fireplace and a dining room for entertaining!

The first home we bought was 75 years old, which seemed quite old to us, and for our area in suburban Detroit, it really is!  But as our  lives seemed increasingly centered a half an hour north of our home, it seemed like the smart thing to maybe think about moving.

That’s kind of a lie.  We weren’t discussing moving.  A house two blocks away from our kid’s Waldorf School went up for sale.   We never looked at another house.  This house was a charming, carpenter gothic style home – from the outside.  We went to look at it for the first time on our anniversary, May 1, hence the Mayday. 

It was not charming inside.  It was listed as a five bedroom, but we couldn’t even tell which rooms they considered bedrooms!  There was no fireplace, in an old house that seemed crazy.  We had even had a fireplace in our apartment for Pete’s sake!  There was SO much work to do.  The basement was so spooky I didn’t even go in it!  So we didn’t buy it.  But I couldn’t let go of the idea.

We went back to visit over the summer.  The price was reduced.  We asked for more information about the house and we were given a thirty page report of what was wrong with it.  THIRTY PAGES!  There is no way we could do it.  So why were we thinking about it?  When the price got below the price of our current house we thought, maybe, MAYBE we could get enough from the sale of our house to do needed work on the new house to make it liveable.  And we wouldn’t be married to it!  If it was too much, we could sell the house, acre of land, (and did I mention the barn?), and move on, right?

If I had made a list of reasons to buy “the farm”, and reasons why not, the “not” list would have been longer.  So why did we get it?  All I can think now, is it had enough room for all of our dreams to reside.  They would all fit there, under that old roof with the ridiculous outdated solar panel on it.  And although I’m afraid of almost everything (really! storms, bees, deep water, flying, fast moving vehicles, calling people on the phone), I still felt brave enough, with my husband as my co-pilot to go ahead and do this.  Brave enough/crazy enough!