a handmade birthday

We had a birthday in the house this week, and the girls and I have been very busy making all kinds of things for Daddy.

clean thoughts

The girls go back to kindergarten and nursery tomorrow, and I go back to work, so it feels like the holidays are well and truly over. And there's nothing to bring you down with a  mid-winter bump like a spot of cleaning. Yesterday was the turn of my own home - I took down the Christmas tree, tidied shelves and cleaned out the fridge. Today I turned my attentions to Imogen's nursery classroom.


As part of our non-financial commitment to the girls' education, we (along with each family in the class) take a turn cleaning our children's classrooms. Imogen's class is very small - only eight children - so this was the second time this term I had responsibility for cleaning it. And being the holiday clean, I had to go in twice - once at the beginning of the Christmas break and again at the end to freshen up. Not really how I would choose to begin and end my holidays, but that's just the way this cookie crumbled.

Once upon a time, I had a little love affair going on with my vacuum and duster. My mother was the daughter of a naval officer and the product of convent school, so you can be sure cleanliness was next to godliness when I was growing up. In spite of my youthful abhorrence of doing chores, I eventually became enamoured of a spotless home, and when I became the mistress of my own home I took my cleaning duties very seriously. I am a little embarrassed when I recall a time, when our first daughter was a newborn, that I shouted at my husband and forbade him from ever hanging the nappies on the airer again. He had hung them all wrong, you see, and not only would it take them longer to dry like that, but they also looked awful! Eva had been born by emergency c-section, and for the first time during our marriage, I was in no state to run the house. I mark that experience as the beginning of the end for my standards.

With each new baby, I have had to learn to let go a little more. Once, laundry came straight off the line or out of the dryer to be ironed and folded immediately and put away. Once, the kitchen floor got swept twice a day - whether it needed it or not. Once, the kettle and toaster were rubbed  to a shine every week. Now, three babies in three and a half years later, I consider it an accomplishment if we don't wear all the clothes in the washing basket before I get around to folding them! Nowadays I'm just happy if the food the baby is eating off the floor is from today rather than yesterday. (Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but you get what I'm saying.)


But oddly, when I step into my daughters' classrooms to begin the weekly clean, something comes over me. I am filled with a calmness and begin to approach each task with love and care. The Steiner classroom is well known for invoking a sense of reverence in every person who steps over the threshold. It's a gentle space. One instinctively lowers the volume of his or her voice, and slows his or her movements to a gentler pace. I know that when my girls are in these rooms with their teachers and the other little children, they are embraced in a loving, homelike environment. And I feel inspired to contribute to the love held within the walls of these rooms by caring for the room and its objects.


Today, as I moved round that room polishing, brushing, wiping and sweeping, I thought of this article about cleaning I read recently. Linda Thomas writes, "...if you are not able to do what you love, you should try to love what you do." In my daily life, I often choose to forgo some of the more menial tasks in my home in order to spend more time doing things that I love - playing with the children, catching up with old friends on Facebook or knitting, for instance - but housework remains an inescapable necessity in any home. So tonight, as I tidied downstairs after the kids were asleep, I vowed to bestow the same love and care on these chores in my own home that I had in the classroom earlier today. Because surely if I approach my daily chores with a happy heart, the walls and the objects within will reflect love and warmth back onto my family.

snowy days

We don't often get snow in sunny (ha!) Devon, but the Arctic temps that have enveloped the Northern Hemisphere this year finally left their mark on our part of the world. The girls were ecstatic to wake up to snow yesterday morning.

 We quickly donned our snowgear, waved Daddy off,

and made for the park.

It was so cold!

But that didn't stop us from having fun!

We were really proud of our little snowpeople.

little hands at work

Today was a proud day for a mama. My eldest daughter, after watching me applique letters onto fabric for Daddy's surprise birthday bunting, asked me when she would be able to sew. I have been looking forward to sitting her down in front of the machine for some time now, but, mindful of the Waldorf philosophy of waiting until a child is developmentally ready (rather than until the adult in charge is ready), I haven't mentioned it even once. I hesitated for a moment - was my just-barely-five-year-old really ready to put the pedal to the metal? Wouldn't her tiny fingers be lambs to the needle's slaughter? I bit my lip and finished zig-zagging round the letter 'b'. Then I turned to my baby girl and asked, 'Well, how would you like to sew today?'


Her sweet face puffed up with excitement. She actually seemed to grow a little before my eyes. I finished up with the applique, then moved so she could take my place in front of the machine. We both laughed - her leg was too short to reach the pedal! So I moved it up to the footrest of her chair, then showed her how to lift and lower the presser foot, guide the fabric and which button to press to sew backwards. I surreptitiously moved the speed control to the slowest setting. She watched, listened carefully, and silently nodded her head.

My very grown up five-year-old then bit her own lip, lowered the presser foot and very gently eased her foot down on the pedal. As the needle started eating its way through our little bunting flags, I realised my eldest daughter had just sailed over a threshhold from infancy towards girlhood. I thought back to my earliest memory of sewing with my mother, some 28 years ago. I remembered the swell of pride I had felt whilst sewing two pieces of red felt together in the shape of a Christmas stocking for her. And I looked forward to cultivating a lifelong love of making for my own daughter.

not just another day

Happy new year!

It feels like only a minute ago we were celebrating our arrival at the new millenium, and here we are, already another ten years down the line. My life has changed remarkably in the last decade - I've gained a profession, a husband, three children and a home. I've emigrated, then returned. And most recently, I've stepped away from my career at work to focus more on my career at home.

My confidence in my abilities as a home-maker has grown by leaps and bounds this year. I have always kept my hands busy, but it is only recently that I've realised the joy that the lovingly handmade can bring to other people. In pursuit of inspiration, I have spent many an evening reading the blogs of other mothers and makers...perhaps I may now provide some inspiration of my own.

I leave you with a taste of our handmade Christmas and blessings for a year filled with warm hearts and busy hands.