A Summer in Limbo

There’s been a great deal happening over here as far as our home and family journeys are concerned, but our months are still being spent in an odd sort of limbo.

Above: Dress from Carolina K, whose Zero Waste Collection can be found here.

We’re currently in the process of packing for our first trip to the tiny French Farmhouse. Meanwhile, we’re also preparing for the greenhouse to be constructed here in Northern Florida, and we’re progressing through the permitting process for our small prairie cottage / ADU, which is slated to be finished before the end of the year.

While our family is extremely eager to return to small space living (and documenting our experiences), things like this take time. This is something that’s easy to forget in the age of instant gratification and the glossy home transformations we see on social media and on TV.

During this interim period, we’ve learned so much about the value of multigenerational living.

Despite some work-related inconveniences, I’ve actually really appreciated this transitional situation of ours during my 4th trimester.

As we spend this warm summer managing the realities of life and our ongoing projects, we’ve been sticking to the most simple of activities.

Rather than planning camping trips, weekend getaways and engaging in elaborate games or excursions with our four year old and newborn, we’ve stayed home and outdoors as much as possible.

Playing backyard bingo, filling and refilling a little nature museum box, and watching shows with our portable projector are activities that have provided us with new outdoor experiences every day, without the need to commit to anything that we just cannot add to our juggling routine at this time.

When I overwhelmed by the to-do list and frustrated by the slow progress of our home journey and feel as though too little has been accomplished, I focus instead on the fact that our tiny hummingbird has almost tripled her birthweight in this time. I remind myself that I’ve had the immense privilege of being with her for every nap. Every smile. Every bedtime and wake up. Almost every single feeding. And, recently, her first giggle!

We will eventually have our hands filled with our little home & business. For now, our hands are blissfully filled with this growing miracle.

Above: Jamie Haller Shoes

Manageable Home Learning

Like millions of Americans right now, we are exhausted.

We are fortunate for countless reasons, and we are grateful for even more. Still, we are simply worn down.

Adam and I don’t want West to feel the weight of our fatigue.

At almost 4 years old, he’s ready for some semblance of schooling. But due to the ever-rising cost of pre-school in Los Angeles, coupled with the Covid-19 rates throughout the city, we are not sending our child to classes in the foreseeable future.

In order to give West a preschool-like feeling at the start of the weekdays, Adam and I have been packing themed lessons together at night for our little one to discover and explore the following mornings.

Spoiler alert: We’re not acing it as parents, folks. These are (very) low-lift lessons. I’m trying to be forgiving of such shortcomings, as we’re trying to run our small business in a recession, navigate family life in a big city during the pandemic, and attempt to figure out some major life changes and decisions (more on that later).

Just like with my office, we create a pop-up school space filled with workbook pages (usually from Highlights for Children), books, activities, and tools that support the morning’s theme. The theme is always something very general— like autumn, swimming, space, plants, etc. The obtuse nature of the themes helps us keeps things flexible, and prevents us from having to buy anything new in order to bring a fresh topic to life every day.

I’ve been filling West’s Uashama 100% organic paper backpack and collapsible, washable paper boxes / containers with the on-subject items he and Adam will use throughout the morning while I work.

And around lunchtime, we end up breaking it down for unstructured, open-ended play.

These sorts of mini lessons feel productive and doable. So while they’re not elaborate or innovative, they’re exactly what we can manage right now. And, most importantly, West is enjoying them.

More photos are below for those who are interested. (And while I have your attention: don’t forget to check your voter registration status or register to vote!)

Nurturing a Sense of Wonder in a Tiny Garden

I had a challenging week. Several issues were chipping away at me, and I was sleeping even worse than normal (which is saying something, as I’m always a lousy sleeper). 

In a small space, it’s arguably easier to pick up on the mood shifts of your family members due to proximity and the level of familiarity that comes with such closeness. And while I always want to be honest with my 3 year old and nurture his sense of empathy, I certainly don’t want him to be negatively impacted by the way I operate when I’m feeling off. 

In order to redirect the focus away from my issues and towards something joyful, I decided to nurture West’s sense of wonder with a lil’ addition to our tiny garden.

I’d recently discovered the sweetest little handmade fairy door and window on Etsy (via a maker/vendor who has sadly since closed up her shop— hopefully only temporarily). While West was occupied, I installed the pieces in the tree just beyond our front stoop, and added a miniature, battery-operated tea light into the recess of the window. 

When West stepped outside and saw the flickering light through the window and the minuscule door, he was enthralled. (Kids do endless adorable things, but West’s reaction to learning that a Fairy family had moved into our garden was particularly memorable…)

He knocked. He whispered. He wondered about them aloud and searched the sky and the garden for more signs of their presence. 

He even asked to further decorate their window by adding some colorful stones to its mossy top, and by using one of the bowls he made in a ceramic workshop as a “fairy pool.”

West was so fascinated that he asked if we could make more doors and windows. I’m not much of a crafter— I’m only mildly comfortable with DIY-lite activities. (Having written that, I’m quite proud that in the past week I made the sandals I’m wearing in these photos, and that I also patched West’s pants with some cheerful floral fabric.)

But we pulled some twigs, vines and scraps from around the yard, and visited our friends at Big Red Sun to grab some moss, acorns and a book entitled Fairy Houses. 

We also scrounged up two balsa wood boxes we’d been using as drawer organizers, which provide the perfect framework for additional windows. 

We haven’t finished creating our pieces yet (crafting has about a 15 minute life-span right now).

But I expect that a bit of these natural materials coupled with some glue  (and patience) will be enough to produce a magical addition for the fairy family’s home, even if our versions aren’t quite as beautiful as the ones on Etsy.

The most wondrous thing of all was that sharing this experience and activity with my child not only kept him from picking up on my mood shift, but it also snapped me out of my dark cloud. The week could’ve spiraled into something much more bleak, but instead it ended with such huge happiness and hope. 

In their hunt for a new home, I’m so glad the fairies picked the cottage.