basics · daughter · inspiration

Hayley’s Homemade Gift

One of the things I enjoy the most about blogging is sharing thoughts and ideas with others. As is the case in the “real world”, like minded people are drawn together throughout the blogosphere, sharing inspiration from all corners of the planet.

Yesterday, Robin, from Bogs of Ohio, told us the story of “The Scrounger’s Garden” which is one of the garden displays at the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. In the garden, various items have been recycled, such as old boots and shoes, and even an unused bicycle has been included in the display.

Robin is a wonderful photographer and has included a number of photos in her post, so do pop on over and have a read of the story and admire her photographic skills. And make sure you scroll all the way down to the last photo, where you will see a lamp, made by Robin’s husband, ingeniously sculpted from old used books. I love it! 😀

One of the links in Robin’s story takes us to The X Facta, where Kel shows us how she has made a keepsake journal, by binding together plain old brown paper bags. It’s another ingenious idea and Kel’s artistic talent is apparent when you see the beautiful artwork on her journal. Go on over to Kel’s “Art Attack” and admire her work for yourself.

Another link included in “The Scrounger’s Garden” takes us to the site of Kathy, at “Lake Superior Spirit”, who is another one of Robin’s bloggers friends. Kathy has written an article about the benefits of reusing old cards and calendars. You will find this story at “Taking Back the World, One Card at a Time”.

Kathy’s story really struck a chord with me. It reminded me of my childhood days, when I would save all of the old cards given to my family for birthdays, Christmas and Easter. I had a box full of cards stashed under my bed and when the new school year began, my elder sister and I would cover my new school books with old brown paper, then we would choose a picture from a card to glue on the front of each book.

My sister also taught me how to press flowers, just as Kathy describes, by squashing them for a lengthy amount of time between heavy books.

When my own two daughters were just little girls, each had their own flower press, a more sophisticated manner of pressing flowers than the heavy book version, although both methods work beautifully.

You can imagine my delight when Hayley, my eldest daughter, presented me on Mother’s Day this year with a framed picture which she had made herself. She had found a verse on the internet “How God Created Mother”, which she printed out, glued to a sheet of pretty purple paper, and added pressed pansies along the side.

Here’s a photo of Hayley’s creation ~

Be sure to run the mouse over the photo and click on it, for a closer view.

Hayley apologised for using a second hand picture frame! Can you believe it? It’s such a beautiful gift, from my beautiful daughter, which I will treasure always. 🙂

There’s a lot to be said for saving old cards, calendars, magazines and left over fabric pieces, along with pressing pretty, colourful flowers from your garden. The possibilities are endless when considering the number of hand-made projects we can put together, if we just give some thought to recycling, as opposed to discarding.

And think of the amount of joy which can be spread when the time is taken to create your own personalised gift for a friend or family member, just as Hayley did for me.

Between Robin, Kel and Kathy, I have been pleasantly reminded of gardening and craft projects, involving the reusing of old items, that I have enjoyed myself throughout the years, not only from childhood days but also more recently. I’ll make a point of telling you about them, another day.

Right now though, I’m off to get some sewing done. (Which reminders me…I must tell you about the quilt I made, many years ago). 🙂

Thank you, Robin and Kathy, for sharing your stories and inspiring not only my day, but also my intended future posts here. 😀

advice · birthdays · challenges · Changes · daughter · happiness · knowledge

Happy Birthday…18 Year Old

One of my children will turn eighteen this year. Being born in the year 1992, by the time the day of her birthday arrives, the law of the land will pronounce she has permission to legally vote, purchase cigarettes, tobacco and lottery tickets, purchase and drink alcohol, enter clubs and bars, get married without parental permission and sign legal contracts.

To put it simply, at the age of seventeen years and three-hundred-and-sixty-four-days, she will be regarded as a dependent child. The very next day, she will have apparently made an overnight transformation into an adult.

Long gone are the days of “Coming of Age”, when the proud parents of the birthday boy or girl would ceremoniously present their “new adult” with the “Key to the Door” ~ when turning the age of twenty-one.

What exactly is the point of all of this grand-standing, pomp and ceremony, presented to the newly turned eighteen year old?

Did the magical fairy from “The Land of Eighteen” wave her magic wand over this child, whilst they slept, bestowing said child with all of the knowledge, wisdom and acumen they will need to carry them through this magical journey they are about to embark upon…called adulthood?

According to the law, the answer is yes…I, however, would beg to differ.

To all of my daughter’s friends, whether your birthday is today…tomorrow…this month…or this year, I wish you the absolute best of everything you could ever imagine, even in your wildest dreams, for the most magical life of your own creation…but don’t let any law fool you into believing your life begins today!

For your magical journey actually began eighteen years ago. And there is no final destination to this journey.

Did you realise that you were born with your very own in-built sense of knowledge, wisdom and adventure? Next time you meet a baby or a young child, look deeply into their eyes…there you will find the clarity and wisdom that us mere adults can only dream about!

The eyes are the window to the soul, and within a babies untainted eyes you will find all the wisdom of “knowing”.

You may not realise this, but you still have the very same natural wisdom you were born with, that same wisdom you see in the eyes of babies. But you may have forgotten that it was there all along.  You’ve probably just misplaced it somewhere, lost amongst the millions of words embedded inside your brain by family, friends, teachers, classmates, movies and TV shows.

In actual fact, the advice you give yourself is the best advice you will ever receive. Only you know what is best for you.

For your birthday, I wish you an abundance of realised wisdom, which will carry you safely along the Magical Road of Life.

All of the best advice ever given to me has been of a spiritual nature. If your spirit is well, the material side of life falls into place all on its own, without too much assistance from you. Therefore ~

  • Keep clarity of mind; stay focussed on the things you know are right for you.
  • Show kindness to others; even a simple smile goes a long way. 🙂
  • Show kindness to yourself; love for others begins with love for you.
  • Have a healthy strength of will; don’t be swayed by peer pressure.
  • Follow your own intuition; listen to your inner voice, it won’t lead you astray.
  • Follow you own dreams, not the dreams that others have for you.
  • Don’t be afraid to make mistakes; there are lessons to be learned, even in adversity.
  • Don’t sweat the small stuff; when you grow older, you realise that the hassles in life are really all small stuff.
  • Learn how to say no. Ultimately, you don’t do either yourself, or anyone else any favours by saying “yes” when you really mean “no”.
  • Be true to yourself; decide what is right for you and make no compromises.

“I hope your Birthday gently breezes into your life all of the choicest of things and all that your heart holds dear”.

challenges · Changes · daughter · freedom · gratitude

Miss Seventeen

Yesterday, I had a complaint about my website.

“How come you always say something about “Master Twelve”? What about me? Why don’t you ever talk about me?” bemoaned my youngest daughter, Miss Seventeen.

“You’re hardly ever at home these days”, I replied.

And it’s true. I see my youngest girl for fleeting moments, as she dashes home, to change clothes, leave her dirty washing, and then she’s off again.

What can I say about her? Remember Maria, the nun, in the movie “The Sound of Music”?  Maria’s personality reminds me so much of my daughter.

“How do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
How do you find a word that means Maria?
A flibbertijibbet! A will-o’-the wisp! A clown!”

How, exactly, do you catch a cloud and pin it down?  For many years, I tried, and upon realising the futility of my trying, I stopped. Take it from me; if you should ever feel the urge to try ~ don’t bother. You simply cannot pin a cloud down.

All in the name of trying my hardest to be a responsible mother, in years gone by I have advised, cajoled, pleaded, demanded and coaxed this girl to become, well, something that perhaps she is not.  And did she ever listen? Not on your life!

“Many a thing you know you’d like to tell her
Many a thing she ought to understand
But how do you make her stay
And listen to all you say
How do you keep a wave upon the sand?”

It’s not really that she doesn’t want to listen, it’s just that she has so many other interesting places to go, fascinating people to meet, rivers to cross and mountains to climb!

Again, in the name of being a responsible mother, I set my daughter free. And oh my, the lessons she has learned…

Here I can talk about the wonderful human being that my beautiful daughter has become. She always has been a beautiful person, and by setting her free and allowing her the freedom to spread her wings, she has become more of what she already was.

This is the girl with the amazing smile and the sparkling eyes. She is approachable and friendly, to people of all ages. Easy to talk to, a problem solver and shoulder to cry on for her friends, her loyalty to them has no boundaries. Befriend her and return her loyalty and you have a friend for life. She’ll walk over hot coals for you. Stifle her, try to tell her what to do, or lie to her and she’ll drop you like a hot potato. Your name will be forgotten in an instant.

“When I’m with her I’m confused
Out of focus and bemused
And I never know exactly where I am
Unpredictable as weather
She’s as flighty as a feather
She’s a darling! She’s a demon! She’s a lamb!”

There are days when I convince myself that she has forgotten she even has a mother. Next thing, she’s arriving home with a “special treat” for us to share, perhaps a creamy cake, block of chocolate or marshmallow biscuits. While I make us both coffee, she sets up her treat for us on a pretty plate and off we go to my quiet room, where she tells me everything I always wanted to know (and didn’t want to know!) about what she’s been up to of late.

Without warning, her phone will ring, and my flibbertijibbet is off again, engrossed in yet another highly animated telephone conversation.

She trusts too easily and has fallen hard when a friend has let her down. And the school of hard knocks has taught her many lessons. She is stronger and more resilient and at times shows wisdom beyond her years. And it’s all due to my daughter living the life she has chosen ~ the no holds barred freedom of learning by making her own mistakes and wearing her heart on her sleeve.

“She’d out pester any pest
Drive a hornet from its nest
She could throw a whirling dervish out of whirl
She is gentle! She is wild!
She’s a riddle! She’s a child!
She’s a headache! She’s an angel!
She’s a girl!”

This year my daughter is in her final year of school and on the back of her senior school jersey is the word “Angel”, and yes, she is an angel, and she is also my wild child. She is gentle, and a party animal, she enjoys quiet time to herself, but talks nonstop to anyone within hearing shot. She certainly is a riddle and never boring.

I have lost count of the number of boy’s hearts she has broken, and she has cried rivers and nursed her own broken heart, but only once. It takes a very special boy to win my daughter’s heart and it is no longer the fragile, delicate little heart it once was.

“Oh, how do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?”

How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand? I don’t want to. My moonbeam has become far more bright and sparkly, since letting her out of my hand. And every once in a while, my moonbeam comes home to me and smiles her sparkly smile, and gives me her ever so special moonbeam hug, she sings her happy moonbeam song whilst dancing her crazy moonbeam dance.

And she makes my heart dance and sing, just as she has since the day she was born.

Footnote ~ As I write this, my free spirited girl is already two hours later home than she said she would be, (Mum, you know I don’t wear a watch!). In the morning she will have no end of trouble waking herself up to go to school, (you know I don’t do mornings, Mum) and when I try to coax her into eating breakfast, she won’t (you know I don’t like cereal, Mum!)

How, exactly, do you solve a problem like Maria?

basics · Changes · daughter · son

Skeletons in the Cupboard

On Thursday night my eldest daughter and I decided to have a good old rummage around in my sewing cupboard. My daughter and I have a mutual interest in all things crafty, and although she knows how to knit, she is just a tad rusty on some of the minor points, (eg ~ keeping all of the stitches on the needle!)

I’m proud of my daughter’s previous achievements in the finer arts. For such a “people person” (she goes stir-crazy from lack of human contact, after approximately ten minutes alone), she has displayed amazing perseverance with craft, especially cross-stitch.

My girl is a scarf lover and I have knitted her several over the last two or three years in a fluffy yarn called “Flurry”. There is another similar brand also available, “Feathers”, which is the knitting yarn I am using for my latest project, which I wrote about in “Back to Basics”. She has attempted to knit with this beautiful, soft, fluffy yarn herself, without success. She is in need of some practise, using a flatter textured yarn.

Remembering my old stash of wool, collected throughout my many years of knitting, although recently neglected due to my so called “time saving” methods of buying readymade articles from the stores, we began opening bags, checking inside of cane baskets and poking around at the back of the shelves to locate all possible woollen candidates for my daughter to practise her knitting on.

We had no trouble at all in locating just the right coloured and textured yarn for her practise knitting, along with a suitably sized pair of knitting needles….

….along with a number of “old treasures” that I hadn’t bargained on finding!

An almost finished jumper, all red, which, as I recall, was intended for my ten year old son, who is now twenty-five! And a sleeveless cardigan that I began knitting for myself, half of the back completed, which, when finished, would have been quite stunning…back in the 1980’s!

Yet another forgotten find was a large bag full of the most gorgeous, deeply toned balls of wool, each ball a different colour of the rainbow. I felt rather disappointed in myself for not completing this particular project as it was a lovely designed multi-coloured jumper, which had also been intended for my eldest son, when he would have been around five years of age!

Neatly wrapped up in its own separate little bag, with half knitted back and extra pastel coloured shades of wool to complete it with, we found a cute little babies jumper, with various designs of boats and houses tediously knitted into it. We both recalled that I had been knitting this for my younger daughter…(drum roll)…who turns eighteen this year!

Oh dear! But all is not lost; my daughter assures me that if I finish the pastel coloured baby’s jumper, she would love to have it herself, for when she has a baby! (Now, where did I put that knitting pattern?)

Why, oh why, didn’t I ever finish these projects?

From my own point of view, the pièce de résistance has just got to be the pair of glasses I discovered, hiding away in the bottom of a plastic bag, immediately recognisable (to me, anyway, even if to no one else) as the prescription glasses I wore, back in the days when I read so much that I suffered from eye strain ~ when I was a teenager, still living at home with my parents!

My youngest son, Master Twelve, (always centre-front when a clown is required!) offered his modelling services for a photographic session, wearing my pre-loved spectacles! (Note ~ No modelling fee was paid for his services. Yes, I am unashamedly into cheap labour, especially when hideous reading glasses are concerned!)

When writing my post on A Rejuvenated Soul, I must now admit to an absolute oversight on my part ~ I didn’t mention sorting through your sewing cupboard, if you own one. :/

So, now we all know what I’ll be doing next week; when the kids are back at school and I have the house to myself, I’ll empty out the sewing cupboard, pack up all the wool that I haven’t got a hope of ever finding a use for, and the charity shops will love me all over again! 🙂

Changes · daughter

Be Careful What You Wish For…You Just Might Get It!

My hair has always been curly. I was born with curly hair and have enjoyed cursing my curls my entire life.

During the 1980’s “big hair” was the fashion. Hairdressers charged a small fortune, giving women a temporary version of The Look, while I flipped my newly washed hair around a few times and had the same look for the cost of a blob of shampoo and conditioner, a plus for me, as the money I saved on hairdo’s could be put towards the equally as fashionable padded shouldered outfits!

Oh, how I loved to hate my hair! Rain made it curlier, humid weather did the same, straightening was only ever a temporary measure and something I stopped trying to do years ago, around the same time as I stopped painting my long fingernails and wearing fancy dress rings on my fingers. As I recall, the high heels were kicked off also, around the same time as motherhood kicked in.

Age brought with it the wisdom that it was easier to let go of the concept of sleek locks, on my head, anyway.

Advantages to a curly top became apparent. On a windy day, who knew whether I had brushed my hair or not? Curls are simplicity itself on a hot summer’s day, just drag them back and tie them up. Unruly strays, not making it into the hair band were assumed to be delicate curls, placed purposely around my hairline, when in reality they were the runaways!

Comments of “You’re so lucky to have curly hair” have been repeated to me, ad nauseam. Not only do I have curly hair, I have thick, curly hair. Why me?

Last Sunday night we enjoyed a family dinner, my eldest daughters twenty-second birthday. The six of us spend less family time together these days, since my daughter moved out a year ago. A sign of the times, making the nights we are all together more precious than ever.

My two girls asked, for approximately the nine-hundred-and-twenty-first time, could they straighten my hair…they were spending “sisters” time together, trying out new makeup, doing each other’s hair, just like when they were young…how could I refuse?

They fussed and fluttered around, with squeals of “I can’t believe Mum is letting us do this”, interjected throughout the process of “The Straightening”.

The softness of my hair amazed all three of us; my hair being as sleek and smooth as both of my girl’s youthful locks.

Monday morning arrived. Dragging myself into the bathroom, in my usual half-asleep state, I was startled by the sight of a complete stranger in the mirror…where had my curls gone?

I caught my husband, peeking at me sideways, out of the corner of his eyes. “Sorry, but the straight hair just isn’t “you””. No, it wasn’t.

Never have I flung my curls around with such abandon, as when I washed my hair and my curls sprang back to life!

I asked myself, how many times have I preached to my children, “Beauty is only skin deep” and “Looks aren’t everything”? Ah yes, how true….

….But there’s another adage, “Don’t try to be something that you’re not”. Yes, that’s the important one.

Now, I am my curls; my curls are “me”….Did I mention yet how much I simply adore my curls? 😉