What a weekend!

Our very good friends, Todd and Shawna, are moving to Colorado this week.  It was sudden in some ways, and they have been hurrying to get their stuff squared away.  That "very good friends" part means that we have been helping.

Last Tuesday, Ben went over and killed their pigs, then put them in cool storage for us.  On Friday, I went over to help them dispatch the last of their chickens.  On Saturday, we rounded up some people to help cut and package the pigs.

I'll start by admitting that I do not mind cutting up dead animals.  I do not know why.  I have not had to kill any of them, but I have now cut up over 100 chickens, two deer, a moose, and four pigs.  I find the work oddly satisfying.  Maybe, it's the sense of filling the freezer and putting food by, or the final nature of the act.  I often feel a vague worry that it does not bother me, but it doesn't.

Anyway- the chickens were three-year-old layers.  They were still laying, but our understanding is that they cost more to feed at this point than they produce in eggs.  We do not have a place to house chickens.  Todd and Shawna did not want to take them with the dog and three children on the cross country car trip.  So, the chickens were killed as quickly and humanely as possible.  Well, almost.  We had some help, as we often do, and one of our helpers, a neighbor's son, could not quite bring himself to whack the neck with the force necessary to fully sever the neck.  This is a case where a kind heart might do a greater evil.  Todd ended up using his boot method to finish the job.

We are using the chickens for dog food, so Shawna and I skinned them, I gutted them, and the neighbor parted them and packaged them.  We had many anatomy discussions looking at the egg laden ovaries, the green gall bladder, the tube-filled lungs, and the rough inside of the gizzard.  Also, there were two fryers we killed which turned out to be roosters, so we all got to see one way to sex a chicken, though the chicken has to be dead to see the testicles.

Jason fetched the pigs from Ben and Penny's cool storage before 8:00 Saturday morning, then took the older two children to ballet.  I raced around making a good processing space for the pigs.  These pigs were killed a bit early, so they were each only maybe 80 pounds dressed.  We moved the butcher block up from the barn on Friday afternoon and sanded all the crayon and paint off the surface, then oiled it well.  I moved that in, covered the table, sharpened knives, and set out butcher paper, scissors, and masking tape.

Susie and her family arrived around 11:00, and we got to work.  The first half did not go so well.  The meat is all edible, of course, but the cuts are not any that you would possibly find in a butcher shop.  Part of the problem was that the pigs were much smaller than we had seen the year before, but really, our inexperience was the main hindrance.  We pressed on and had the first pig cut up and packaged (Thanks Mike!) before anyone else got here.  

The second pig went faster, and we were done and cleaned up by 2:00.  We sent our helpers on their way with some fresh pork, and shuttled the rest into the freezer we brought from Todd and Shawna's house.  Then, that evening, a new acquaintance brought over a 1.5 horsepower grinder and ground the meat we had set aside for that.  Two pigs, minus a few gifts, now sit in our freezer ready for winter.

We also rendered the lard and started bone broth from those parts of the pig.  The half pig last year resulted in 1/2 a gallon of lard, but these two together only had a quart of lard between them. The nice thing about doing the lard and broth at the same time is you get all the bad smells over at one time.


Yesterday, we canned applesauce, and we figure we'll do one more batch this week.  Jason picked up drops at Shelburne Orchards one evening last week and he'll do it again this week. We eat applesauce mixed with other canned fruit all through the winter, so we like to have a large supply put up.  The drops make it more affordable.

And finally, it rained and rained and rained last night.  Jason went to see how dry the basement was only to discover a small creek running through the rocks on one side and right on across toward the garage.  I guess it's not so dry.  Apparently, a well- designed basement would have channels dug into the dirt floor to move the water along.  This excess of water is strange territory for this ex- Tex.

What's for Dinner?

A friend who is watching the children right around lunch time Sunday asked if there was anything they would not eat.  I stared at her for a minute before I answered slowly, "Ezra says he doesn't eat rice."

Really, at any point of their waking hours, there is definitely something each will not eat.  Sylvie mostly does not eat spicy stuff, but Phaedra and Ezra definitely do.  Phaedra does not seem to eat eggs with any gusto, but she eats enough to make it until lunch.  Ezra has strange grain aversions, like the rice thing.  Phaedra does not like foods to be too sweet.  Sylvie prefers white bread and milk for every meal.  The list goes on and on if I actually try to mention all their food preferences. That is not the way the kitchen works at our house, though.

I am not a harridan about food.  These vague preferences I try to note, and I try to make sure we're not having excessively sweet potatoes and extremely spicy rice for one meal.  On the other hand, I will definitely serve things that one child or another is not fond of if any of the rest of us like it.  And the rule is one taste, no complaining, no yuck faces.  I have been quite pleased with the results of this policy.

Ezra occasionally forgets and eats rice just because he is hungry.  Sylvie will eat greens if it improves her chances for another slice of bread.  Phaedra will eat eggs before ballet to have plenty of energy.  And with all these things, their tastes and preferences change.  Tomorrow or next month or next year, Sylvie may value a bit of spice in her curry and Ezra may eat chocolate cookies again and Phaedra may deny she ever disliked eggs.  If I do not get too locked into identifying these food things as Truths about the children, it leaves them room to change their minds.

Sometimes, the children are even pleasantly surprised by a food they thought they hated.  Phaedra likes to talk about how much she loves greens, because a year ago she would not touch them.  Ezra delightedly ate liver tonight, wondering if his appetite for it meant he was growing up.  Sylvie... well, Sylvie had 3 glasses of milk and some winter squash for dinner.  


Maybe even more importantly, they learn not to burden others with their preferences.  Their mother earnestly hopes they will be able to sit with others and eat or not eat without commentary on the food choices of others.  The art of being companionable at the table is a fine one to learn, and vocal pickiness can be a hindrance to others' digestion. 

Sewing and other things

One problem with being the at home parent and homeschooling is that it can feel like I never have time to myself. I feel like one of the children can call, "Mama!" at any point in the day or night, and I am duty bound to respond. There are times that I do not, but I am ever alert for whether or not I ought to.

Homeschool means that more hours of my day are devoted very specifically to the children. This is no sleight against mothers whose children go to school; it's just that I have a very loose parenting style. My normal mode of parenting is interaction interspersed with large blocks of, "Go play!" In order to feel like I am actually doing the work of schooling the children, I believe I need spend more time knowing exactly what they are doing.

Also, in the past years, I have written the curriculum by pulling from different sources. On any given day, all of the material presented to the children was chosen by me alone. I felt I was doing something important, that I was "ensouling" the material I presented. I also felt responsible when the children were not interested or even rebelled. I wondered what I did wrong that I failed to even mildly prick their curiosity.

This year, we are doing a heavy dose of Charlotte Mason alongside the Waldorf flavored curriculum. I am using two different prepared math curricula, too. I fretted a bit that the children would not be held in the warmth of my love by using someone else's Cliffs Notes to decide what to bring them. But, that's not what is happening.

The children are delighted. They like all the different material. They like the new math work. They move easily (for the most part) from one task to another without asking me over and over why they have to do this or when school will be over. Even Phaedra, who is adamantly opposed to learning German, was suddenly speaking German today just for fun. They excitedly tell Jason and other people about what they're reading and what new thing they learned in math. Heck, I'm delighted.

What does this have to do with sewing?

Well, on Tuesday, our second day of school, I just took pictures of the children as they worked because I had a few free minutes. On Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, I had time to write a couple of letters. This way of doing school is actually giving me a bit of personal time during school hours. I cannot talk on the phone or absent myself emotionally, but I can do things that permit chatting and stopping and starting.

I spent all of today cutting out about 10 different things to sew. Next week, during school, I can spend some time putting a few of these together. It will bring joy to my life to be able to do this; partly because I love sewing, but also because I will be working alongside the children, not just overseeing their work. And that was what I imagined homeschool would be about.

Opportunity Cost

We love many things about where we live, but we knew we were picking a set of negatives with this set of positives. For example, moving from Texas to Vermont meant leaving our entire family in order to live somewhere we fit in. Trying out cohousing meant losing a few connections we had established in Chittenden County.

Lives are full of these trade-offs, and they are unavoidable. Even really excellent things have drawbacks. We are not blind to these losses, but we actively choose to celebrate the things we gain. As I sit in a slightly chilly house that is currently unheated, I am reflecting on the things we do not often mention.

I am thinking about how fun it was to swim with five months of summer and how easy it was to travel before we had children. The easy walk for either coffee or groceries was a benefit to our place in Shelburne. I really enjoyed the access to the Nature Conservancy land along the La Platte. I miss cycling and quick jaunts into town. When I'm feeling anxious, I even miss being in an apartment with people all around. It was comforting living so close to a fire hydrant. I never knew how great it was to worry about only my illnesses.

The negatives specific to this place include a decrepit (but improving) house, strange neighbors, an ATV/snowmobile trail, very sandy soil, bad plumbing, outdated electrical service, creepy basement, poorly positioned mailbox, tons of trash, and a long commute. Really, that's not too bad of a list. I think I'm ready to focus on the positives again.

What About Me

The past two days I have managed to sit in the hammock for more than three minutes in a row. Our hammock is beautiful and comfortable and in a desirable spot. A dear friend made a disparaging remark about how infrequently I would actually sit in it, and I took it as a dare. Therefore, I make a point of sitting there for a minute or two almost daily.

The funny thing is it's no good only spending a couple of minutes in a hammock; it means you're getting out of it before you've even really gotten settled.

But, the past two days, I was in the hammock for at least half an hour before I was ousted or inspired to other things. I could have been weeding, and I will, but the weather is so perfect and I am worn a bit thin with Jason's schedule this past week. I decided to take a break, recharge, and then power on through the day.

One interesting discovery is that most of my tasks still got done even with my lazy ways. I had a sense of humor this afternoon even after I got the "Beth" phone call (you know, from the KISS song), and the children lost their minds when they found out Jason wouldn't be home for dinner. I managed an apology after being snippy with Ezra. I think the hammock could be just the thing to keep me peaceful, and fewer people will cast a sideways glance at my 3:00 hammock appointment than my 3:00 hard cider.

First Day of School

We finally started school today after nearly six months off. I have felt twinges of guilt when others discussed school. I worried about taking so much time off. I wondered how things would go when we tried to get our school schedule started again. I talked to friends who do very little formal school, and they do absolutely nothing until November. I worried then about slipping that way.

With the move and the work related to the move, we just were not ready to start school. Phaedra has learned to read during our lull and Ezra has pondered many math miracles and Sylvie has developed a real yearning to be in school, too. I guess it was not too bad.

Our morning started well with Phaedra explaining that she could not do the math work, would not do the math work, hated the math work, and hated me, too. She does not like anything new, so this was an expression of all the resentment around a new math curriculum. Ezra chatted me up about one thing and another as he wandered around the house looking for a pencil, a sharpener, a book, the cat, etc. Sylvie wanted to start sewing TODAY! I tried to remember that there's no hurry.

By 9:30, we were just about finished. Phaedra had done math, history, spelling, form drawing, and reading. Ezra had finished math, history, spelling, and reading. Sylvie had been in everybody's business trying to get an education. We managed a brief break before going to the homeschool group. Then, we had a late lunch and did handwork and German. Ezra had a bit more work to do that he did with gusto.

Our first day was really quite good. I often feel pulled in ten different ways, but if I remember to never hurry and to have faith that it will all work out, things stay peaceful. 179 days to go.

Burning

Jason admitted to me very early in our relationship that he is a bit of a pyromaniac. I thought that strange since I like fire just as much as he does and so do all of my siblings and at least two of my cousins. I figured it must be normal.

When we camp, whatever the weather, we make a fire. We justify this fire by cooking all of our meals over it. Since everyone knows it rains every time we camp, you can get a sense of how much we like a fire.

We are really comfortable with the children around fire, as well. There are occasional sillies that must be squelched, as physical foolishness does not belong around any fire, not even the little burner on the stove. Still, the children really enjoy fires, and for the most part, they are properly respectful of the awesome power of fire.

We have gotten to have many, many fires since we moved. I've made a fire ring. It was really quite easy; I just made a really big fire and then put cement trash around the edge of the burned place. We have burned a variety of construction debris and all the burnable trash from the barn, basement, house and garage. We also burn our paper trash. We have had many very nice bonfires and a few that we kept the children away from for fear of noxious fumes.

Everyone has learned new fire etiquette:
1. Get your own box of matches because Mama and Daddy are using these.
2. Keep a shovel handy as it is the only thing long enough to poke a really hot fire.
3. Get another shovel because Mama and Daddy are using this one.
4. Wear boots if you want to walk inside the fire ring because there are nails.
5. Pretty flames mean avoid the smoke more carefully.
6. Tell the person opposite you before you throw something in.
7. Watch for flying sticks that overshoot the fire.

I figure everyone is getting to indulge an interest in fire, so maybe no one will need to experiment outside of the fire ring. The fire ring is less fragile than the bathroom sink we experimented in as children.