House Rules

Some childless friends stopped by recently and saw the "House Rules" posted in the kitchen. One of them observed, "Those wouldn't work in our house."

Here they are:

1. Only Say Kind Things
2. Only Do Kind Things
3. Inside Voices
4. Listen More
5. Do It Now!

The first three are mostly for the kids, the last two are mostly for me.

Yesterday was chaos because I didn't obey #5.

Graham had asked me to hang out with him in the family room, rather than doing my typical morning routine. Because I agreed, we were rushed getting everybody out the door for school, I didn't look at the calendar & totally forgot that Cami had a dance exam until she asked, "When's my dance test?" (as it was starting -- talk about a panic moment but it all ended ok), and I spaced it that a couple of friends were stopping by in the evening.

So, I got up when I woke up at 5 and got started on all those things I didn't do yesterday morning. Things feel much better. Now, to combine #4 & #5, I'm going to help Graham make pancakes.

Midnight Spa

Pregnancy-induced sleeplessness is my second most-disliked bit of growing a person. Usually I wake up about 2 and can't get back to sleep until about 5, but last night it kicked in around 11:30. My skin felt tight and I felt just a little too warm.

Diagnosis: slight sunburn and mild dehydration.

Middle-of-the-night spa treatments may seem odd, but it since I wasn't sleeping anyway. . .

Step 1: Drink lots of water.

Step 2: Oatmeal mask/scrub and oatmeal bath.

Step 3: Deep condition hair.

Step 4: Heavy-duty body moisturizer.

Conclusion: I now look a little bit tan.

Money Matters

I watched a really interesting Oprah interview on YouTube last week with J.K. Rowling. I have been mentally chewing on the segment where the two women discuss what it's like to have been devastatingly poor and then to be billionaires. Rowling refers to having such wealth as having a "superpower," many everyday problems just aren't a problem anymore. Oprah mentions those moments where she finds herself debating between two choices and then remembers, "Oh, wait -- I can have them both!"

With Christmas approaching, I can't help but think about how I really DON'T want things. What I want is that superpower Rowling talks about: I want my cabinet rewired for British plugs, I want all the lights in the house to work, I want a dishwasher. I want it not to matter that I left all my maternity clothes in NJ. I want to live in a house where I can paint the walls & put up pictures anywhere I want & rip up the bathroom carpet (yes, it's gross). I don't want to have to choose between the kids' swimming lessons and replacing the timing belt on the car. I want that freedom from mundane problems.

But Christmas isn't supposed to be about any of that. So I'll try to remember that the superpower of Christmas is the freedom from death & sin that is celebrated as we remember a very important baby's birth.

I Walked Home Tonight

We'd had a "Ready, Steady, Cook" meets "MasterChef" activity for the Young Women. Two teams of girls had 40 minutes to prepare a three-course meal using random ingredients. I'm really impressed with the pretty & tasty combos they came up with. I'm glad I was a judge.

When I got outside (about 9:20), it was still bright. The sun had set, but twilight looked like a sunny winter day. So I walked the mile home.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how it is that some people just enjoy their lives. What does it take to be happy-go-lucky? I know what it isn't: it isn't limiting myself with excuses why I shouldn't. It's not even asking for myself permission to do the things I want to do. It's just doing it. Be happy-GO-lucky! Get moving. Don't wait to be happy to go. Don't wait to be lucky to go. Just GO! The luck will follow you & happiness will catch up. So tonight I took a walk.

I'm Just Explaining -- Nobody Freak Out

Some days I feel like I'm wearing a "Hello, My Name is. . . " stickers, only instead of "Starr" filling the space it reads "exhausted, overwhelmed, incompetent mother of an austistic child." Yesterday was one of those.

Jason and I had a meeting with the school staff who oversee his development, the psychologist who routinely meets with us, & two new people who specialize in supporting schools who have students with autism. In the meeting, the head teacher (the British equivalent of a principle) pointed out several times that being the parent of three active children, especially one that has special needs, is a daunting job and that I often appear "worn out." Since Graham's tendency to run away as we walk to & from school was also a big part of the discussion, I have spent the last 24 hours feeling like the imaginary name tag on my chest is the size of a billboard.

As we sat in that meeting, the thought came, "This is your job." That thought makes me so sad. It makes me feel like I'm the depressed, bored, drone who will be stuck in the same dead-end situation until the grave -- and the world knows it.

I don't know how to turn it around. I can't snap my fingers & have Graham's condition change, I can't make Cami & Rose be perfect, self-caring children, & I can't return to the bright times in my college life when it felt like I could conquer the world. I just don't know how to give my family everything they need. And I don't know if my job will ever allow two weeks vacation.

Choosing Joy

Jason's been in New Jersey since Wednesday.  He was supposed to be home today, but the Icelandic volcano has interrupted air travel to the United Kingdom, so he's getting to spend some extra time in the U.S.  When I got the message from him this morning I wasn't sure how to face the day, but I knew we would survive.

As I was trying to hurry Cami along, I recognized that our morning family scripture reading wasn't going to happen if the kids would make it to school on time.  So, I stood on the stairs with Cami complaining at me and recited a short Book of Mormon verse in my head.  "Adam fell that man might be, men are that they might have joy."  And for the first time, I really felt that I could choose joy.   So I chose to smile.  Cami noticed immediately.  "Why are you smiling?" she accused, probably thinking I was laughing at her.  I quickly explained that I was choosing to smile, even though the day ahead seemed hard.

I found things to appreciate in this "hard day."  Rose & I planted sprouted peas & I felt much better for being out in my garden.  At lunch I purposely based my meal around plate of the lettuce that I cut in my own back yard.  I chose to place cucumber slices in a pressed glass compote dish, carrot sticks in a blocky, white ceramic, & hummus in a red dish.  I needed that color in my life.  

I added something new (and atypically colorful) to my closet when I bought an emerald green linen dress, feeling like it was time to start having a "spring wardrobe."  And I chose to enjoy the truly new (only out of the ground for 15 minutes) potatoes that Rose harvested about four months too early.  The largest was the size of a large marble, the tiniest the size of a tear drop.  I actually tried one raw, wondering if something that fresh was tasty, but I couldn't swallow.  So I relished them quickly fried in goat butter.

It helps that the sun is shining.  It helps that Cami wanted to set the table with fancy dishes & wine glasses for our supper of fish and chips.  And it helps that I've chosen to choose joy today.

Am I Violating His Privacy?

Obviously, I haven't been posting a lot lately. In part because I've been writing in my journal more. In part because I haven't been sure about going public with the dominant fact of our family life. It's been so important to me that blogging not violate the kids' right to privacy. Quoting something funny is one thing. Revealing their problems to the world without their permission is another.

I've talked with Jason about it & he thought that we'd eventually have to say something. So here it is: Graham has autism.

He was first evaluated about 7 months ago & the Complex Communications Disorders Team didn't feel like they could give him a label. Some of his behaviors match autism profiles, but his advanced vocabulary & his ability to focus on certain types of activities didn't. It's not unheard of for gifted children to be misdiagnosed as autistic & I so hoped that was the case. But, after six months of observing him in school & at home, they felt they could stick a label on him and it wasn't the one I was hoping for.

Since then, I've been looking at Graham's babyhood with new eyes. Realizing that the reason he couldn't sleep in crib was probably related to the autism. That what I used to think of as his "sympathetic crying" -- he'd tear up when Cami cried -- was probably because he was over-stimulated by the noise. Recognizing that he needs to put things in his mouth to really experience them -- and realizing that he was much calmer when he still used a pacifier, because the paci met his needs for oral stimulation (that sounds dirty -- sorry).

Last summer, just before he turned four, he threw a fit in the park because he wanted on some playground equipment & couldn't hop on. A grandmother, thinking she was being sympathetic, asked if he was two. When I told her he was almost four, she commented, "Some children just need to learn who their master is."

I didn't say, "My son is a child, not a dog. He doesn't have a master, " although I have thought that for a long time. I've always tried to accept my children for the people that they are, rather than they people I think they ought to be. And having the diagnosis, growing in my awareness of what Graham's needs are in the context of his diagnosis, is helping me see how to show others what a really cool little boy that Graham is.

Hearing Myself

Throughout my late teens and into my early twenties, I was an avid journal writer. I took about a twelve year hiatus from that habit. But at the beginning of the year, I was thinking about the times I felt most content with myself & determined to start doing the things I did when I felt comfortable in my own skin. Writing in my journal every night is one of those things.

Jason and I have long known that we are happier as a family when the computer is not the chief source of entertainment for our children. But I had to admit to myself that the time I spend in front of the computer wasn't contributing to our family happiness either. So, we decided to take a week -- just a week -- where the only screen time would be Jason's work & my twice-a-day e-mail checks.

That's why the blog hasn't been updated in a while. I'd been using the blog as my substitute journal, but when you blog, the audience isn't yourself. I needed to hear my own voice again to figure out what things would make me feel content with who I am. That mission is still in progress. But it is progressing.

Spring Cleaning

In French Women Don't Get Fat -- yes, it's a diet book & no, I don't have a weight problem -- Mireille Guiliano mentions that she does her "spring cleaning" in the winter when she wants to be inside, so that she can enjoy spring fever by being outside.

Yesterday, despite icy roads, the members of the Emmaus Community came to pick up our bedroom-cum-living-room furniture. It's like we have a brand new room. I was afraid Cami & Graham wouldn't respond well to the change, but when Cami walked through the front door after school, she immediately gave it her stamp of approval. Rosie & Graham are loving all the space. They are happily playing downstairs right now.

With the big change of simplifying the living room, lots of little purges have occurred. There was a lot of paper stored in those drawers that are in recycling bags right now. Jason is currently on an errand run that includes a stop at a charity shop (aka thrift store) to get rid of unused books & clothes.

With a bit more determination, things will be spick-n-span when spring fever hits.

Form Fits Function

When we arrived in England, none of my bedroom furniture fit up the stairs. The bedroom is big enough, but the turn in the stairwell is not. Our everybody-can-snuggle-on-Saturday-morning, pillow-top, king-size bed was donated almost immediately to a charity. But the dresser & chest of drawers have lingered in our lounge (aka living room) for more than a year, waiting for when we relocate to a different house.

Today I phoned the same charity that claimed our bed might be too large for the pick-up van (they managed, but the manager pleaded, "Please tell me they don't make beds bigger than this one.") I've been telling myself to do it for months, but today I finally scheduled to have the bedroom suite taken away.

In the past year I've thought about what that furniture means to me. We bought it, ironically, from a family who were leaving the States to spend a year in Norway. Those pieces of furniture symbolized what good things could enter our lives. Beautiful & functional, with clean lines. Form fit function. But although we could still use the function, those pieces no longer fit the form of our lives.

So, on January 8th, those items which meant "good things will come" to my graduate-student-wife self will be taken away. Their sale will bless the lives of the Emmaus Community. And, I like the thought that perhaps they could become a symbol of "someday" prosperity for another young family.

Just a Walk

I've been jittery the last twenty-four hours or so. I'm not sure if it's because I'm so tired that my body is wired or something else is going on. But stretching didn't help (although I learned I can still do backbends with ease), reading didn't help, tidying up didn't help.

So, I took a walk all by myself this afternoon. Here are photos of things I saw that I liked. All within 15 minutes of where we live.


This is a 400 year old barn that's for sale. I so wish we could live there.


I just liked the stone arch with the gate.


When I tell Jason I'm going "by the cows" he knows I'm heading to these fields. There were only one or two cows out today -- sometimes there are many, many more.





I lay on my back on a big stone that juts out of the hill above the river. I spent some time there trying to be. To really experience the coolness of the stone beneath me, the sound of the river below, the blue of the sky and the clouds passing. I'm still feeling jittery, but I think I'm less sensually starved now.

Crying Right Now

When you find yourself, you will be beautiful. -- Ruth Reichl's mother.

I'm listening to a Fresh Air interview with Ruth Reichl right now. I've read her first three memoirs & she is currently promoting her fourth. The book is entitled, Not Becoming My Mother.

Who doesn't feel that? (Mom, are you surprised?)

I've been struggling with all the voices in my head. I've heard lots of negative things throughout my life & unfortunately, I've absorbed them to the point that my thoughts are now the self-destroying voice. Just in this week, I've been trying to interrupt the negative words & replace them with kindness.

So, this quote is something I'm going to write up on my wall. I keep trying to find out who I am. And then I will see that I am beautiful.

Chicken with Apples

This recipe was a lifesaver tonight. I had NO brilliant ideas & then I found this. I had everything -- having bought the chicken breasts & Braeburns yesterday -- except the juice. Homemade chicken stock replaced that. And I reduced the Dijon to about 1/2 tsp. Little mouths can't handle the HOT English mustard.

My Paradise

I was just doing a self-actualization exercise while listening to an audio book. The book is about personal finance, but the exercise was related to the emotions of being prosperous.

My responses are probably a bit different from what the author intended when she said, "Imagine having a gardener & cleaning lady." I'd love a self-designing garden & self-cleaning house, but I don't really want other people to be doing the work. I just want to be able to do the gardening & cooking at my leisure. (And even though cleaning isn't my favorite, just having a dishwasher could my cleaning lady.)

"Imagine your dream garden filled with favorite flowers, shrubs, & trees." I saw fruit & veggies growing. Strawberries, blueberries, & lettuces on the ground & fruit trees ready for picking.

"Imagine having a fun-filled vacation with your family at least once a year." As an eighteen year old, I felt awed by the beauty of Switzerland. I haven't been back, although I've spent the last 15 years wanting to. I cry a little when I think about how I won't be attending a missionary-reunion in Switzerland next month. And so I dreamed of a week at a Swiss chalet. Kids running HAPPILY on the grass, the mountains in the background. And me contentedly preparing an easy lunch of fresh lettuces, cheese, and fruit.

My imaginings all seem to point to wanting a simple home.

How Much is it Worth?

"They are very aware that you can make things yourself and that those things have value." Brook Williams said this about her children in this interview.

I've been thinking about how I treat things. With all the moving I've done since I left high school, there have been many things that have entered my life which have been left behind. There have been many things that have entered my life which were dragged from coast to coast and then across an ocean.

The quote from Brook Williams somehow connected with my thinking about whether or not I value the things that I've spent money on. Jason and I have been talking about what it is that we really value about being in England -- we value travel, both exploring new places & returning to family and friends. Family and adventure. Really, for me, that matters more than items that fill up space in my house.

But what about the things that get used in my life? Do I value those things enough to take care of them properly? When clothes get torn or stained or a piece of electronica short circuits, do I miss the item or do I miss the entertainment it provided or do I just regret the money spent that could have gone to purchase something else? Like plane tickets.

And what about the things that I've picked up, intending to do something with them? I'm great at seeing the potential in something & then not doing a thing about it. Why do I value the time on the computer, trolling for inspiration, rather than actually doing what it takes to try to create beauty? What do my actions teach Cami, Graham, and Rose?

We came to England in part to teach the kids that the world can be their home, not just North America. I hope we can also teach them to create something beautiful, not just consume beauty, in all parts of the world.

I'm not saying this well, because my thoughts aren't perfectly clear. But I hope that I can be a creator, not just a consumer -- even when consumption is needed to create a beautiful memory.

Start at the Bottom

I am a pretty awful housekeeper. I look on in awe of those who seemingly without effort have beautifully-kept homes with tidy children and look irrepressibly cute, if not gorgeous, themselves. I can only manage one out of three on most days, although somehow I do better for holidays or visitors (but even then the cute/gorgeous item is a lost cause).

But I'm going to post my rules for myself, because I need a place to go to help me keep on track.

1. Start at the bottom. I can get the rest of a room tidy more quickly if the floor is clear (& ideally swept, mopped, or vacuumed). It's very feng shui, I know, but I really do need to be able to walk without any sort of obstacles. And two minutes with the vacuum really makes a huge difference on how I feel when I walk into a room.

2. Clean things before they get dirty. I mopped the floor last night before it got black & so the mopping when fairly quickly. And looking down, I realized that the fridge door needed a wipe down even more than I thought it did & I had time to do it & all the other cabinet doors, too.

3. A mountain of dishes really will become a molehill if I clear the sink first. When I was growing up, there was a proper way to put the dishes in the sink to soak/get washed. But the sink had to be empty first. When I was finished, I was supposed to scrub the sink out with Comet. Due to many moves & several houses without double-side sinks, I've lost that habit. But when I talk myself into getting the sink clean first, the dishes only take half the time to wash.

4. More dishes: wash the weird/seldom-used items first. I usually leave these for last, but then they languish on my counters for days, even weeks, while I spend lots of time washing the items that get used at every meal.

5. Yet more dishes: wash the big things (pots & pans) next.

6. Laundry doesn't back log as badly if I wash the items that dry the fastest first. And then put the items that dry the fastest on the radiators & the items that dry more slowly on the drying rack or line.

7. Laundry also doesn't seem as overwhelming if I put the dirty clothes in the basement by the washer. When I pull a clean load out, I don't have to run upstair to get the next load -- it's already there.

8. (This is a new realization as of today.) Newspapers are great for cleaning windows, shining mirrors, & making steel appliances (like our oven) sparkle. Use the throw-around newspaper on the day it arrives. Five minutes in the living room (lounge), another five in the kitchen. Windows, mirrors, & stove shiny. I can do this. . .and maybe get the kids to help. (Lesley, do you remember how Cami would beg to wash windows because she could use a spray bottle & be on the ladder?)

So, there's my rules for myself. Nothing earth shattering. I just needed to write it down to make it more real to myself. If you've read all this, you are either really bored or else a true friend.

Making an Entrance

I walked into a house today that has been under renovation for more than two years. And it brought back memories of a house I frequented as a child. In both residences, you cross the threshold into a tiny and crowded entry space.

I came home & told Jason how I had a title for a post. Because I was reminded that your first impressions when you enter a house influences your opinion of the house, its occupants, and yourself. When Jason and I lived in Florida, we'd only just moved into a new (and newly painted) apartment when some friends stopped by with flowers. Molly walked in the door & said, "I didn't know you were a color person. I am, too." Another friend walked in, absorbed the quiet of the cool green walls & said, "I feel so peaceful here. I don't want to leave."

I'm not writing this to congratulate myself on having an apartment that looked & felt good five years ago. And heaven knows my housekeeping skills weren't great & haven't improved with the additional years and munchkins. I'm writing it to remind myself that how I perceive others is strongly influenced by how they live; and that others' impressions of me can change by how they feel when I open the front door of my home.

I must always make sure to make an entrance.