Decluttering My Way

 I have a confession to make.

    I hate housework. Yes, me - the proprietor of Busy Bee Domestic Wizardry, where I cleaned other peoples' houses for six years. It's true. Oh, I know how to clean, I just don't like to do it. And I live with someone who has self-admitted mild packrat tendencies; which is not to say that I'm any better. My craft room looks like Michael's barfed all over my space. And we have kids who, to one degree or another, have difficulty parting with belongings because they attach so must sentimental value to the objects, feel overwhelmed when facing cleaning due to executive dysfunction, get anxious, or like me, have a serious case of LazyVision­. When we put an object down, if it stays there long enough, we just stop seeing it altogether.

    Over the last few months, the topic of decluttering has come up on my social media feed a lot. I've developed a method that borrows from a few sources that I have found inspirational in my own  (ongoing) decluttering journey, and also takes my undiagnosed ADHD and associated executive dysfunction into account. I've spent the past few years refining it, and I'm pretty happy with how it looks now. Is my family perfect? Certainly not. Friends have told me that it sounds like a good method, so I decided to share it here, and I hope that it - or at least parts of it - are useful for you. Please feel free to keep what is useful, and ignore what doesn't work for you or your situation

    So here are the principles:

    1. Preparation Is Key

    In order to have a really successful decluttering session, you need to be ready for it. This was a trick that I gleaned from The Flylady. She sells cute purple bins that are for the "Keep/Toss/Give Away" process, but you really don't have to spend anything beyond your regular household budget. Another important thing I learned was not to do it when I'm tired, or hungry, or stressed. That having been said, there are going to be times that you can't avoid this, and that's okay. But be aware of your personal condition going into it, and make the necessary allowances for it. Remember: it is always right to be kind to yourself.

    With that in mind, this method works whether you have five minutes, or a whole day. You will need the following: a garbage bag, a recycling bag or box, a bag or box for donated items, a refreshing drink with a spill-proof container, and a list if you find that sort of thing helpful. My particular flavour of ADHD means that I live my life by a series of lists, as that is what keeps me on track and avoid devolving into a chaotic mess of "startitis". Now you're ready to dig in.

    2. Start With The Easy Decisions

    If you're decluttering, your space has clearly become more than you can easily or comfortably cope with. Don't beat yourself up about it; it happens to all of us sometimes. Again, go back to my Golden Rule of Decluttering - Be kind to yourself. If you are planning to go through things that have great personal significance or sentimental value for you, or that you anticipate will be difficult to face, such as going through a deceased loved ones' belongings, you may want to ask a family member or a friend to help with the process; someone who isn't emotionally invested in your stuff can help you see things more clearly, and be able to make decisions quickly and with conviction.

    So, what are the "easy decisions", anyway? I break these down into five smaller jobs: garbage/recycling, stuff that doesn't belong in here, dirty laundry, clean laundry, and books. If you haven't guessed by now, my family has a lot of these things in the spaces that need decluttering!

        A. Garbage: This one is really easy. Just toss anything that is obviously garbage. Snap open that garbage bag, and toss that crap!

        B. Stuff That Doesn't Belong In Here: This is the only time I disregard my "Only touch an item once" rule. Set it aside *OUTSIDE OF THE ROOM YOU'RE WORKING IN* and put them all away in their proper home when your decluttering session is nearing its end.

        C. Dirty Laundry: Gather it up, and put it in the place closest to getting them washed, dried, folded, and put away. For our house, that's in the large bins in the laundry room. Do what works best for you.

        D. Clean Laundry: You have no idea how many times I've walked into a kids' bedroom to find the laundry I've lovingly washed, dried, and folded sitting in increasingly untidy stacks on top of dressers, beds, desks, or on the floor. If I had a nickel for every time, I'd probably be able to retire. Just put it away. 

        E. Books: Put them where they belong in the room, be that a bookshelf, or a tidy stack on the bedside table, or the donate bin. Our kids all have a bookshelf in their rooms; oddly, Hubby and I don't have one in *our* bedroom, and we're both bibliophiles, so I have a feeling that this will be changing as I go through the process of decluttering the master bedroom this summer.

    Once these five things are done, I promise, you will be struck by how much better your room looks already. What may have seemed a truly insurmountable task now feels achievable - and it is.

    3. Touch Each Item Only Once

    I'm a big fan of not doing more work than is necessary, and this principle really feeds into that. When your easy decisions are done, it's time to settle in for the "Keep/Toss/Give Away" portion. When you do this, you should be able to make a pretty definitive decision about your belongings within five seconds. Once the decision has been made, either put it in the garbage, the donate container, or, and this is a key thing I learned from Dana, aka A Slob Comes Clean, go put it in its home *right now*. This all but ensures that you only have to touch each item once. This is also the stage where Flylady's two questions come into play ("Do I love it? Do I use it?" If you can say yes to one of these, by all means, keep the item), as well as Dana's decluttering questions ("If I was looking for this, where is the first place I'd look? GO PUT IT THERE NOW", and "If I needed this, would I know that I already had one? No? Put it in the donate bin. Yes? PUT IT THERE NOW."). Likewise, Marie Kondo suggests that you ask if the item sparks joy for you, and if it doesn't, you thank it for serving its purpose in your life and let it go.

    4. Progress, Not Perfection

    This principle was probably the hardest for me to embrace. I am, by nature, a perfectionist. So having to leave a project unfinished used to give me a great deal of guilt. But with the idea that you're seeking progress, and not perfection, even five minutes of decluttering is still progress. And try not to get hung up on things if you have someone helping you that does things differently, or forgets a step, or makes a mistake. If it's not done to the standards you expect from yourself, that's okay. As FlyLady is fond of saying, "Housework done incorrectly still blesses your family."

    5. Wrap It Up

    However long you've been working, the time has come to wrap it up. The whole idea behind this method is that you never leave a room in a state of chaos - at least, no more so than you found it in! Put the garbage and recycling bags outside,  the donate container in your vehicle for the next drop-off day, and your things that don't belong in that room it their proper places. By putting things away as you go, you are always making progress, and you're never putting yourself further behind.

    So there it is. If you find any of this useful, or have any questions, throw me a comment!

New Skills Emerging

For some years now, Hubby and I have been talking about writing a children's book series. Well, last week, I wrote the first one. It was an assignment for school, and I figured, since we had to write a story anyway, maybe I could get the series underway.

The main character is named after a beloved friend, and the idea was to write about her experiencing some of the more difficult things that children might face, to teach kids how to navigate those turbulent waters.

The first book in the series is titled "Amanda Panda and the Sad Day". It is about Amanda Panda's best friend losing her dog to a car accident, and how Amanda Panda learns about sympathy, empathy, and how to be a good friend to someone who is grieving. For some reason, this book poured out of me; it felt like it wrote itself. I suppose that's the way all of my best writing has come about.

Anyway, I just wanted to mention this. I'm proud of how it turned out, and my instructor printed, laminated, and bound it into a book, so if you ever want to read it, let me know!

Finding My Way

Note: This is a long, rambling post, that gives lot of history to get to a very short point. If you don't want to slog through it, just skip to the last two paragraphs.

I feel lost in my hobby.

I have been playing in our medieval hobby group for 17 years, and Hubby has been playing for 13 years. When I first started playing, it was on my own. I was married and had a toddler, but he didn't play (long story). Even so, between Primus staying home with his father and the help of friends minding him, I was able to do a lot of service, teaching, and art. And I had big dreams: to advance my art to the point that the people I look up to and admire in Society would find my artistry acceptable, and that the way in which I conduct myself and serve others would enrich this game we all play to the absolute highest standard. In the next few years, I had a second child, and my friends continued helping me to do everything that brought me joy. In early 2007, BD and I broke up, and several months later, I met and began dating Hubby.

Now that I had a partner that was an active participant in our hobby, the help with kids started to dry up. I'm not bitter about that; it was to be expected - we now had two active, involved, and engaged parents, and I didn't need as much help from others. Besides, everyone wants to hold a baby, but toddlers and preschoolers? Not really. After all, they want to be on the ground, running around! And then I got pregnant. We wanted four kids altogether, so this was the plan. During that pregnancy, I had the opportunity to serve in the largest capacity of my "career" in the group, in a key retinue position. I worked hard, and feel like I acquitted myself well, even with a new baby. One job blended into the next, and I took on an administrative role in our Principality. 16 months later, I had another baby, and I was a very active player until sometime in 2011, when I hit the proverbial wall. I had a "helium hand", and wanted to do as much as I could for as long as I could. I wasn't a good steward of my own resources, and as a result of that, I burned out - HARD. I no longer loved my hobby, so I took a hiatus of more or less two years.

In that time, Hubby took a brief break, then resumed playing. And I began to question my place in the group. Had I made an impact? Had the work I'd done made things better for everyone? Had my efforts in promoting courtesy resulted in a more courteous Society? I felt that there were no concrete answers to those questions, and as a result, it took me longer to come back to it than I had originally anticipated.

The collateral damage of taking a hiatus is that your "career path", for lack of a better term, tends to veer off the map into limbo. People forget who you are, what you did, that you ever did anything, or what you are capable of. And sometimes, you forget, too. In that stretch of time, I really feel like I lost touch with who I was within the greater context of Society. I was boiled down to "wife of" and "mother of", and didn't feel like an entity unto myself

I reluctantly returned, at least part-time, in 2013 because I could see how much Hubby wanted me to. My first event back was when he petitioned our local Baroness to be her Courtier. I wanted to be there to support him, but I wasn't really feeling it, and I spent a good part of the day feeling very isolated. And I know it was me isolating myself; people I hadn't seen in a year or two seemed happy to see me, but I felt nervous and shy. Hubby was playing much more actively than I was. He went to events that I didn't feel like going to, and sometimes, he went to events that we couldn't afford for both of us to go to. His arts mentor encouraged him to attend more and larger events, and these were also events that I did not attend, staying home with the kids so that he could follow his dream. I encouraged it, because he was still passionate about it. I was having a lot of difficulty rediscovering my passion, and I really needed to sit down and think about why that was. Over time, the thought of walking into an event where Hubby had a cadre of friends I didn't know became more and more daunting for this introvert. They certainly wouldn't know who I was, apart from "spouse of that Really Cool Dude Who Does The Neat Stuff"; would anybody know - or care - that I am an embroiderer, weaver, knitter, illuminator, archer? Or am I just support staff for the guy who is clearly on his way to a peerage? What would I do now?

My artistry was suffering. I had hardly picked up silk and needle, or brush and paint. Goodness knows, there isn't a lot of time in the day to create art when you have two kids in diapers. Serving for a year as Treasurer on our elementary school's PAC executive took time and energy, as did the day-to-day work of being a wife, mother, daughter, sister,friend and home-based business owner. I was exhausted. The strain that was placed on us every time Hubby entered a competition was difficult; his focus was singular, particularly in the few weeks leading up to the deadline for documentation, and then leading up to the competition itself. That singularity of purpose, often borne of procrastination and the resulting feeling of last-minute panic sometimes made him short with us, and the lion's share of the work of running and maintaining the home fell on my shoulders. The one saving grace was that he still did the bulk of the cooking - a thing that I appreciate to this day. But it was hard, and I admit that I bristled inwardly each time he announced that he was entering a competition, because I didn't feel like he considered the impact it had on everyone else in the house. It took a lot of difficult talks for him to understand that instead of announcing that he was entering a competition, talking it over with me *before* making a decision was going to go over a lot better, and result in a more supportive and encouraging spouse.

I fully came back to the hobby when I was ready. I missed eventing, and I really missed the people. I missed creating. I missed serving. Most of all, I missed the me that I was when I was doing all of those things. But by the time I came back, my path was untended, and I didn't know how to cut away the overgrowth; how to stand up and allow myself to be seen. Hubby had this whole new group of friends with common interests, and I felt very much not a part of his SCA journey. And I started to feel forgotten. Resentment crept in, which is a horrible thing, because I was truly happy for his progress. But I felt like I had sacrificed my own path in order to secure his. And really, that's exactly what I had done.

I spent seven years feeling like that. So we spent some time talking about that, and getting on the same page.

This past March, just ahead of the shutdown of so many things due to COVID-19, Hubby was recognized as a Peer of the Realm. He had achieved what he had worked so hard for - recognition of his scholarship, his intelligence and his talent. And I was there, right behind him, as I always have been; I saw the look on his face when he realized what was happening, the look of pride on his mentor's face as she called him up, and proceeded to both beam and weep throughout his elevation, the looks of joy, respect, and admiration on the faces of his peers, and the look of delight on the faces of our King and Queen as they bestowed this accolade on him. The Queen was gracious in indicating that Hubby should hug me first before being embraced by his peers, but there was still a part of me that felt very much on the outside of things. He is the first to introduce me to his friends, and to try to include me in conversations with them, but invariably, the topic turns to something I know nothing about, and I get quiet and withdrawn. I still feel very much like I exist on the periphery of his world. The pandemic shut our Kingdom down the day after his elevation, so the isolation and lack of eventing that has ensued has only served to magnify those feelings of disconnect for me.

Where does that leave me? I have spent some time considering not only what I want to pour into my hobby, but also what I need to get from doing so to maintain balance and not spiral into another burnout. I need to figure out who I am in Society now, and who I want to be moving forward. I don't want to spend my days as only "spouse of Peer X"; I want to distinguish myself and be seen as a valuable member of Society in my own right.

So how do I do that?

I'm figuring it out, and I've got a lot going for me. I have the good fortune to be surrounded by beloved friends, truly the family of my heart, that are invested in my happiness and success. I get really sound advice from people I trust implicitly. I have been asked to assume leadership of a large project by a Peer that I adore and admire, that feels I am that perfectly suited for the task. It marries both artistry and service. I am also on a team of people tackling another large project.  Hubby has told me that he's ready to support me on my journey. I think most importantly, I am embarking on a new path, with a new service mentor whom I admire and respect greatly. I have set myself short-, mid-, and long-range plans for both my artistry and service that will allow me to focus my energy on the things that really bring me joy, and I'm learning where the edges of my resources are, so that I'm never pushing the envelope again.

I chose the elements of my personal heraldry when I first joined based on my interests at the time and personal preferences, but the heraldic meaning of it is so much more meaningful now: well-governed industry. So my intention is to ensure that my industry is always well-governed, that I am not taking on too much and risking burnout again, and that I am pouring my energy into activities that always bring me joy. Because if you're not finding joy in your hobby, why are you doing it?

In Over My Head

Today was my first real day of school, and I already feel overwhelmed.

We were given two projects, with due dates of March 27; once the material was presented, we were given lab time to work on them.

I felt completely lost.

This feeling was compounded by observing many of the other students finding their resources easily; one student even completed the first (and more involved) project with time to spare in the first class.

I realize that it's my first day, and that many of the people in the class have been there since last August, but that knowledge really didn't do much to assuage my feelings of failure and worthlessness. I used to pride myself on my intelligence, but I'm being served a mighty big helping of humble pie today, and to be honest, it tastes kind of bitter.

Not at all what I was hoping for.

On The Threshold of A New Life

In seven hours, I will step into a classroom where I am the student for the first time in 28 years.

Just typing those words is scary for me. I've been reassured by many people that I'll do fine, that it will seem easy, that I will be successful... and on some level, I know these things. But I am still scared of the unknown, and until I walk into that classroom at 8 am tomorrow, I'm going to be a bundle of nerves and self-doubt. I'm embarking on 43 weeks of study, and hopefully, by the end of it, I will find full-time employment as an education assistant in this school district.

I spent the last six years cleaning houses for seniors, and it has slowly and systematically been breaking my body. I started out with tendinitis in both hands, the result of working too hard, too fast, and for too long on a cross stitched piece for my best friend in my 20s. Next came bilateral tennis elbow in 2017. In January of this year, due to overcompensating for the pain in my right elbow, I managed to injure my left shoulder. The clinic doctor said biceps tendinitis with possible rotator cuff involvement, and a month later, the physiotherapist says that it's the rotator cuff, which is exacerbating the biceps tendons, left pectoral, elbow, hand, shoulder blade and neck. I'm trying acupuncture and daily exercises, so we'll see how that goes.

But it was this most recent injury that served as the catalyst for a big change. I had initially considered just taking the ASL courses that our local university offers through Continuing Education, in order to better equip myself to be a silent herald for our SCA events. But after a brief perusal of the UFV website, the idea was planted to investigate the feasibility of going back to school full-time to become an EA. This was something that Hubby and I had talked about years ago; we crunched the numbers, and while going back to school to become a teacher was not worth the time and money invested, going back to become an EA was a much more reasonable proposition. But while the kids were young, and would require full-time daycare, the cost was just something we couldn't manage. But now, with Quarta being 9, and Tertius on the verge of going to middle school, it really seemed like the timing was finally right. We still didn't have the funds to pay for it, but I had an idea. I decided to approach my mother about getting an advance on my inheritance to pay for school in full, and to cover any lost income for the duration of my schooling.

Things started moving pretty quickly after the decision was made; I met with one of Hubby's EAs from last year, a recent graduate of a similar program (and longtime psychologist prior to that), and not only did she encourage me to enroll in the program, but she said that I would be great at it, and expressed the hope that I would end up working alongside her at her work site. The next step was calling the school to see what it was going to cost, and when I might be able to start. March 2 was the date. A little faster than I had anticipated, but perhaps it was better that way - less of a chance for me to chicken out. Once that was settled, I spoke to my mum and brother, and they were both fully on board. This was really happening. Then came all the paperwork: criminal record checks, TB tests, doctor's notes, and a composition detailing why I want to do this, and what I bring to the program, and the career. Also, initialing and signing my name enough times to think I was signing over my firstborn child (don't worry, Primus, you're safe).

That brings me to this moment: seven hours away from the start of school. I'm 47, and I'm terrified that my intellect has atrophied so much as to sabotage any chance at success. Maybe I'm so scared because I want this so much? I hope I am equal to the task, because if I'm successful, it means a whole new life for me.

Dad

I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot lately.

We just celebrated the first of two family Thanksgiving dinners, and it gave me pause to remember that Thanksgiving dinner was the last meal I ever cooked for my dad.

Three years. Three years that I haven't been able to call him and laugh about how ridiculous US politics are, or Canadian politics, for that matter. Three years since I got to go over the most recent BC Lions score, or rail at how easily the Canucks gave up their lead. Again. Three years since I asked for his advice about something, anything. Three years since my children crawled onto the armrest of his overstuffed recliner for a snuggle. Three years since I saw saw him smile, or heard his voice.

It was the Monday after Thanksgiving when my father  was hospitalized for the last time.

I had been feeling down for a few days before I realized why:

Grief never ends.

I found a poem today that resonated with me, so I'm going to share it below.  Hope you get something out of it.

Gasping for the Flash

A flash
An instant that is meaningless in the endless cosmic cycles
Yet so significant it changes everything
Takes the breath of life from someone you love
A lasso from heaven swept across the sky
Grasping his neck
And taking him back to the dirt and the dust
As our tears turn to rust
As they blanket our face and turn our smiles to stone
And cover our world in a fog of raging fumes
For we lost you
And we are lost with confused chaotic minds
No matter what our beliefs
It doesn’t change the pain of losing a life
A light
Every passing thought of you
Makes the world stop
For moments that seem like hours
And hours that seep into days
I see the air come out of my mouth
Sweet and steaming from a fiery body that still moves
And I feel my life intensify
For every small flash of our lives is so precious
And fragile
I still can’t believe you are gone
You are still so real here
Fresh in our mental recollections

– SHILOW

Is Anybody Still Here?

Hey.

I’m coming to the realization that I really suck at this.

But nonetheless, here I am, starting over and hoping that this time, I’ll get it really established as a habit. That’s supposed to take something like 28 days, right?

So here goes Day 1 of 28. And hopefully, many more.

Care to come along for the ride?

A Whole New Year

Here I sit, the second week of school upon us, and I already have Tertius at home, sick. That said, he's done three pages of curriculum work in his summer book, and helped me to empty and reload the dishwasher. I'm rewarding him with a documentary on Netflix now.

Here's how the fam-jam is doing:

Primus is in his second-to-last year of school, and the pressures of life are beginning to weigh heavily on him. He came out as bisexual last month, and I feel that we as a family have dealt with the news well, assuring him of our love and support. Things in that respect are going well, but we've known for some time that he is given to anxiousness and sadness, and that takes a toll. We hit a crisis point over the Labour Day weekend, and are now trying to figure out the new normal. These are completely uncharted waters we're wading into, and Hubby and I are hoping that we are making sound decisions, supporting Primus while still having clearly defined boundaries, and helping him to become a healthy, whole, and contributing member of society. I feel like we've somehow lost the sweet kid who loves and feels deeply, but we're working towards rebuilding trust and hope to come out on the other side stronger for what we're now coming up against. He excels academically, he's athletic and musical, and has a large circle of friends; he has a lot going for him. I love this kid like crazy, and desperately want him to know that with every fibre of his being.

Secunda is now the top grade on her middle school, thanks to a massive district-wide grade reconfiguration. Last year, she was new to the school, and this year, she's a peer leader, helping the two new grades to find their footing. She's really enjoying this opportunity, and I think that it will do wonders for her self-esteem. Over the summer, she had a crisis of conscience when asked to keep a secret that she felt was unhealthy. We helped her to work through it and come to terms with the first and best rule of secrets: if it harms you or someone else, it shouldn't be a secret, and you must tell an adult you trust. I am constantly blown away by how poised, articulate, and caring she is; I'm so proud to be her mother.

Tertius is now in Grade 4, and seems to be enjoying school more than in the previous two years. I can't help but feel like his elementary school experience has forever been coloured by the death of my father; Tertius' attendance began to be an issue around the time of Dad's final hospitalization and death, and he has seemed like he wants to avoid school. He adored my dad, and that love was returned in spades; his death hit Tertius hard, and he became a sadder, more quiet child as a result of the loss. He will still talk your ear off if you let him, but there is an undercurrent of melancholy that wasn't there before. I worry about him. That said, he is a generous and loving child, whose boisterous energy when he speaks on a favourite topic is somewhat infectious.

Quarta is now in Grade 3, and finally becoming a person in her own right. She has very clear likes and dislikes, and is my "Drama Llama". I am hoping that this is the year that she outgrows the temper tantrums over not getting her way. She is also a remarkably affectionate child, free with her hugs; I often spend the praise and worship portion of our church services holding her hand, or with her arms wrapped around me as we sing. She is learning how to knit and do cross stitch, and shows an interest in helping others.

Hubby got the best possible news this Labour Day weekend - he has finally successfully posted into a permanent teaching position in the district, which means that he no longer gets laid off at the end of June, clears out his classroom, and waits until the first week of July to see where - and what - he'll be teaching the following year. He is at the school he likes best (having taught in almost every single school in this district over the last 11 years), teaching subjects he loves at levels he loves. When he went through the interview process over and over in the spring, without a job posting, I told him not to worry, because his job was coming. This position is what he's always wanted, and I'm so very happy for him!


I am trying to establish more of a routine for myself this year, and that starts with remembering to do some self-care. And blogging is a part of that. I honestly feel more balanced when I blog, so it really needs to be a regular part of my week. I never work on a Monday or Tuesday, so I will work weekly blogging into the schedule for one of those two days. I'm working part-time for myself as a house cleaner, and have devoted this year to knitting only things for me and mine - nothing knitted for sale in 2018. I'm still taking commissions, but I'm being very selective about what I take on, to ensure that my family and I are warm and cozy, too. I spent most of the summer both working and teaching crafts to kids at the cultural centre again, and really enjoyed the work. I look forward to teaching again at Spring Break.

Well, that's us in a nutshell. I will try to come up with a topic to write about for next week. In the meantime, be well, be happy, and I'll see you on the flip side :)

Borked.

I am really beginning to feel my age. I am 45 years old. I have been an embroiderer since the age of 8, a knitter from the age of 14, and engage in a number of handcrafts that I've picked up over the years including (but not limited to) knitting, crochet, counted cross stitch, surface embroidery, blackwork embroidery, hand sewing, calligraphy and illumination, tablet weaving, and scrapbooking. I also play a few musical instruments. All of these require the use of my hands.

In my 20s, I developed tendinitis in both hands from working too hard trying to cross stitch too many Christmas gifts. I bought medical Lycra wrist supports to use when stitching, which helped to some extent. This was somewhat troubling, as it made me concerned for my hand health, and how it would impact my crafting long-term. When I was 26, I was assaulted in the workplace, and the aggressor bit me on the back of my hand. He broke the skin in 11 places, causing further damage to my right hand, and a really nasty infection (the human mouth is a disgusting place). I received a week of IV antibiotics, a few weeks off work to recover, and PTSD from the subsequent attempted assaults once I returned to my job. I blew out both carpal-tunnel nerves at 29 during childbirth; I had no feeling in my thumbs and first two fingers for 6 weeks, followed by painful tingling in those fingers for a further 6 weeks. This was both worrying and frustrating for me as a first-time parent, and further worrying to me as a crafter. I underwent hand physio twice, with limited results. I have hand fatigue, aching hands, and weak wrists.

In my 30s, I developed a ganglion on my wrist from hefting a faulty grocery cart, in an inconvenient location that prevents surgical remedy. I've had it lanced and drained twice, to no avail. There really isn't anything I can do to make this better.

Last year, after months of increasing pain, I was referred to an orthopædic specialist and was diagnosed with tennis elbow in both arms. This is as a result of my job cleaning houses; another repetitive stress injury. Now my arm up to and including my elbows are messed up. Really getting worried now.

Yesterday, my van got stuck in the snow while helping Secunda with her paper route. I ended up wrenching both shoulders pretty badly trying to push my van out of the spot we were stuck in, and further injured my elbow; I now get flashes of searing pain from mid-forearm to mid-bicep. It feels like someone is holding an acetylene torch to my arm.

 I try to mitigate these injuries by wearing wrist braces when I sleep to avoid waking up with numb hands; I wear the wrist braces and an elbow brace while working to allow me to function, and I use oral painkillers as a preventative measure, and also use more painkillers and topical analgesics to deal with the associated pain. But the pain is all day now. On the pain scale, I function daily at about a 4, with spikes up to 8 if I do silly things like press the buttons on the microwave with the wrong hand, or pick up a piece of paper, or try to hug my kids, or sit still. Or engage in any of my crafts, but I do it anyway, because *not* doing them makes me feel worse mentally and emotionally.

I clean houses for a living, and I think my job is breaking me. I can't *not* do my job, because my income is relied upon to support our family. I really don't know what to do.

Tea Time!

I love tea. And, it seems, I love collecting tea. We have well over two dozen different types of tea in our cupboard, and overflowing onto the counter and the shelves near the kettle. I am so much a creature of habit that I make the same kind of tea almost every day. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely ADORE my Dilmah - a single origin Ceylon tea with no tannic acid, meaning I can enjoy it any time of day without suffering from heartburn. Hubby's favourite tea is Earl Grey, and we also enjoy that regularly, as well as the cheap but very tasty Chai from Trader Joe's, but I keep going back to my Dilmah.

I have very thoughtful friends and family who have gifted us with interesting teas, herbal infusions, rooibos, green, matcha, and the like. But I drink three kinds of tea most of the time, leaving all of these other delightful varieties languishing on the shelf.

So I decided a few days ago that I was going to try a new tea every day or two. Here are my tea adventures so far...

Day One (December 30):

 Tea: Let It Snow
Source: David's Tea, from their tea advent calendar; sample given to me by the stellar J.
Type: Green, with cinnamon, clove, and custard
Remarks: This was a lovely, light tea, and it's one I would gladly drink again. Perfect for a stand-alone cup, or with cookies; I'd suggest sugar cookies or anything with an uncomplicated flavour profile.

Day Two (December 31):

Tea: Cardamom French Toast
Source: David's Tea, bought on sale
Type: Black, with cardamom, cane sugar, and cinnamon
Remarks: This was a truly delightful experience, and I would absolutely buy this tea again. I liken it to a dessert tea, and would enjoy a cup of it after a meal.

Day Three (January 1):

Tea: The Earl's Garden (currently out of stock)
Source: David's tea, bought in the summer
Type: Black, with marigold petals, strawberries, cornflower petals; strawberry and bergamot flavouring
Remarks: I love Earl Grey, so this was going to be a slam-dunk. It smelled heavenly! And it tasted lush! And it made my heartburn flare up, so I think when I drink this again - and I will - I'll brew it a minute or two less and see if that helps with the tannins.

I've been enjoying this foray into new and interesting teas, and I'm going to spend a bit of time sorting out which ones I'll try next.

See you in a few days!

Now Is The Summer Of Our Disorganization

Oh, have I fallen off the organization wagon.

This summer has been a combination of work, teaching, and trying to relax in the down time, along with spurts of madly tidying the living room, dining room and kitchen and scrubbing the bathroom before friends arrive to visit.

While I love having my family home during the summer, I have to admit that I'm really, REALLY ready for everyone to go back to school and for our home to slip back into a routine. My laundry day got completely derailed, and I'd like to not have to scramble to put a load of wash on so that I have underwear. Sorry if that's TMI, but that's reality at Geek Central.

I have taken the last two weeks off of work so that I could actually, legitimately relax, and while we took four days to travel 6 hours away to visit friends, and I did relax and enjoy that, I feel a bit at loose ends now that we're home. I want to get stuff done! I just want to kick everyone out for a day and get a bunch of stuff done, because painting the bathroom when five other people want to use it is not fun. I have a lovely, huge spice rack that was custom built for me, and that I painted, and it's just propped up against the kitchen wall where it's to be mounted because of stupid things like actually getting to the store for the drywall anchors and making the countersink pilot holes. I have the paint upstairs, waiting to put the second coat on the dining room and living room, but I can't move the bookshelf by myself. I really want to get the painting done, so that we can start enjoying life in our dream house the way we want it to look.

Oh yes, I had mentioned teaching. Have I told you about that?

I was asked to be an instructor at our local cultural centre for their kids' art camps, so I taught cross stitch for two weeks, blackwork embroidery for a week, and knitting for a week. Average class size was 5 students, except for the knitting class, which had TWELVE kids in it! The first three classes were really relaxed and enjoyable, but that week of knitting was a challenge!From students having crying jags in frustration, to students not bothering to try because they didn't do it perfectly the first time, to giving up on teaching them how to cast on, it really tested me as an instructor. But by the end of the week, most of the kids had a significant chunk of knitting completed to show their parents, and at least one of them had already gone out and bought knitting supplies to do more at home.  If even one child picks it up as a hobby, I consider it a resounding success :)

The day after the last class, we took off to visit our friends, and arrived home a week ago. There was a whole mess of birthday gatherings in the last week, as we celebrated my 45th birthday, as well as my in-laws' 45th anniversary, and my father-in-law's *mumblemumble*th birthday.

But enough about my summer of (relative) sloth; Hubby is ready to go get those drywall anchors, so it's back to work for me!

Feeling Crafty!

I've had something on the go, craft-wise, for as far back as I can remember the past couple of years. So here's what I've been working on:

Once More, With Feeling.

So very much has happened since my last post on here. And my heart can't bear to go through it all.

The good news is, shortly after my last post, we were given the opportunity to move to a much larger stand-alone house in a good neighborhood, and we made that move on October 1, 2016. On October 9, we hosted our families for Thanksgiving - minus my dad, who was too unwell to come over. A plate of food was packed up for him to enjoy. On October 10, my dad was admitted to hospital for the last time. Between our regular day-to-day busyness, and ferrying my mother to and from the hospital, and the added trips to the grocery store and pharmacy and wherever else my mother can no longer drive herself to, life swept us up and carried us along at breakneck speed, and this blog fell by the wayside.

We lost Dad on October 27th.

It's still hard as hell to write that.

With Dad's final illness hot on the heels of our move, unpacking was really the last thing on our minds, and blogging was the last thing on mine. Grief took over, and I made my family the priority, a decision I will never regret. I ended up being treated for hypertension, and it really shouldn't have surprised me that my blood pressure was through the roof, considering all that was going on.

I'm now almost 6 months out from that day, and I finally feel like I have my feet under me again. The blur of work/errands for Mumsy/kids' activities/church activities has slowed some, and we've settled into a better, less frenetic routine. And that means that I feel like I can start blogging again.

So, here we go again - once more, with feeling.

My Journey of Hope: Craft Room Conversion!

Hubby said the sexiest thing to me this past Saturday. He took my hand as I was about to head out of our bedroom, smiled at me and said, "How about on Sunday, we stay home from church, and..."

Getting A (Standing) Ablation

Yes, I know the title is spelled oddly. I'm not talking about getting applause; I'm talking about matters to do with my lady parts, so if you are squeamish, or don't want to read about my body's natural functions, this is your opportunity to step off the bus.

My Journey Of Hope: Bathroom Drawer Disaster - Before and After!

Being a busy bee means that sometimes, those little tasks that need doing get pushed by the wayside. And sometimes, those little tasks become big, messy, nasty monsters that roar at you every time you open the drawer. Well, this was one of those times.

I had joyfully organized Tertius and Quarta's bathroom drawer, with the full intention of doing the same for Hubby and I. And then summer came. And I picked up more work. And there were outings, and visits, and time with friends and family. And it didn't get done.

Here's how it looked:

Are you sure there's a toothbrush in there?

Whilst shopping this afternoon, I said to Hubby, "I'm going to pick this office drawer organizer up for the bathroom. He looked skeptically at me, likely because I hadn't pre-measured the drawer, and because it was an office supply. But I was confident that it would fit. And it really was high time that our drawer started looking as nice as Tertius and Quarta's.

Hubby set to work making dinner (from-scratch Beef Stroganoff), and I started emptying out the drawer. I pulled out the skid-proof liner, as it looked like it had seen better days. After three years in there, it was ready to be retired! I wiped out the drawer, tapping any residual dust out off of the back deck. The new organizer fit like a dream, with just enough room to tuck my flat iron in front of it!

And now it is a little piece of calm in our bathroom. Any time the counter seems too chaotic, I can always open my drawer, smile and take a deep, calming breath.

Here's how it looks now:

A little job at a time can accomplish mighty things!

Planning In Secret Out In The Open

Hubby and I desperately want to take the kids on a real vacation. We've been to Seattle a couple of times for a few days at a time, but we're talking about a two to three week drive down the I-5 to Anaheim, LA, and San Diego.

With one real income, that's just been out of the question. But now that I'm working (very) part-time doing housecleaning, I suddenly have a stream of income that we don't rely on for the day-to-day necessities.

I have this huge plastic jar that used to hold Winnie the Pooh cookies many moons ago. We cut a notch out of the lid, and it's been our savings jar for years. Right now, it has a piece of paper in it that says, "Van Fund". Now, we *are* saving for a van; we have money from income tax set aside for that, and are hoping to have another bit of money coming in soon so that we can go van shopping. We've let the kids know that the primary concern is replacing the van, to be followed by replacing Hubby's vehicle, and then we can start saving up for a vacation. And as far as the kids know, this jar is being used for that, in that order. In reality, this jar is solely for saving up for a family vacation. We'll take stock at Spring Break to see how much we have saved up, and that will determine the kind of vacation we can take.
                                                                                                                                                                    So what we've committed to is this:

- all money I earn from housekeeping goes into the jar
- all money I earn from selling my crafts goes into the jar
- all money we receive from D&D meals goes into the jar
- every time we have money come into the house (payday, child tax credit, GST, what-have-you), anything smaller than a $10 bill in our wallets/pockets goes into the jar
- any money I find in the dirty laundry goes into the jar

In addition to this, with the child tax credit increasing in July, we will have $350 more for both July and August, then when Quarta turns 6, we'll have $270 more each month, which will be immediately funneled into our long-term savings account (the home of the van fund at the moment, but will also hold replacement car and vacation money).

And once we've taken stock at Spring Break, we're planning how to surprise them. So far, the idea is to buy a new scrapbook, and do exactly one page for it - the title page. I already have a lovely, sparkly sticker that says, "Disney Vacation". Then we'll tell the kids that I bought a new scrapbook to put our vacation photos into, and ask if they want to see it. I think we'll need Uncle Jakk over here to take video of them freaking out :)

The State Of The Bee

So, I've been quiet for the best part of the month, but I haven't been idle.

The last two weeks of school are always a mad rush of field trips and fun days, classroom parties and child meltdowns as the realization hits that their entire routine is about to change drastically for the next 10 weeks. And this year has been no exception.

Primus had his last day of middle school classes on June 15. On June 16, I woke him up nice and early to accompany me to the intermediate sports day at the elementary school. It's not as bad as you're all thinking; there were a handful of his friends there as well, and he did a great job of busying himself lining kids up for their heats in the running races while I handed out ribbons. When I had to leave at recess to go to work, he stayed to set up and then run one of the stations for the kids (the "throw the football through this hoop" station). It was only after that was finished that he went over to a friend's house to hang out, and he was great about keeping me apprised of his location.

There were classroom parties, movies, ice cream parties (earned with classroom "money"), year-end hikes, assemblies, awards handed out (Secunda achieved 'A' honours for the year, and 'G' effort for the year; Primus achieved 'A' Honours for the year, and received the Grade 8 Band Award for excellence), and the requisite trip to the waterslides.

Hubby had the task of packing up his entire classroom (with the help of Primus one of the days), because while he is a continuing teacher in our district, he does not have his own contract. That means that every year, he gets "laid off" as it were on June 30, and waits for the phone call a few days later to find out what school, subject, and grade he'll be teaching come the fall. We've been fortunate that for the 6 years he's been on the lay-off/recall list, it's always been a full year of full-time teaching. He's actually got a decent shot at being at the same school next year, and possibly even teaching the same thing, so we are now waiting for that phone call.

Life on the home front hasn't been quiet, either. I've picked up a second cleaning client, this one weekly, and so I'm driving for half an hour each way to work there. It's a nice drive, and I don't mind it, and they have a lovely dog that only barks until she gets her biscuit :)

My parents have been having a time of it, however. My father was hospitalized for two weeks in February, and Mumsy has a laundry list of ailments, and all the requisite medications that treat them. They are in their 70s now, and I've really seen them go from vital middle-aged people, to elderly people, and it's been hard to see it, and to know how frustrating it must be for them.

Right now, we're dealing with my father's second hospitalization (four days so far), and my mother's bladder cancer diagnosis. So at the moment, I am not only working part-time and taking care of my own family, but also being Dad's legs and hands, and Mumsy's wheels, getting her to and from appointments and visits to Dad, washing up dishes, cleaning expired food out of the fridge, taking out the garbage, and when I can, doing housework to help them stay on top of things.

And it is exhausting me. Please don't misunderstand - I am so glad that I'm able to help. I liked having a quiet visit with my dad this morning while Mumsy had her CT scan downstairs. I don't mind taking Mumsy to the store, even if it means that it takes an hour longer than I anticipated. She so rarely gets out to the stores without feeling rushed by Dad, whose energy necessitates that trips out are quick and to the point. She and I love to troll the dollar stores :) But even though I am happy to do it, it still takes a toll.

I think the solution is to establish a schedule once Dad is home from the hospital. For one, we (being my brother and I) need to get our stuff out of storage in their house. We also need to help them downsize, because their home is WAY too much house for them. So we are wanting to help them prepare to put the house up for sale and move somewhere more suitable to their needs. And that needs some structure.

So, if you don't see me on here as often, this is why.

Of Frailty and Mortality

February was a medical roller coaster ride, one that I would most definitely not want to ride again.

February 1st dawned, a lovely sunny day. It was a Tuesday, and in the world of Busy Little Bee, that means Sanity. I picked up my friend T and brought her back to the house so we could grab a coffee before I dropped her at her dentist's appointment later that morning. Tertius and Quarta were both home sick, and played quietly in their room. As we sat chatting, I started feeling... funny. Not HAHA funny, but rather, somehow off in a way that I really couldn't describe. Within 10 minutes of the onset, I felt like I needed to put my head down, so I must have felt some sort of low-grade dizziness. Then I had to close my eyes, and I absolutely felt dizzy by that point.

I thought I was having a blood sugar issue, and my blood glucose tests seemed to bear that out, but when the nausea hit, and the clammy sweat began, and the falling sensation started, we knew I needed to get to a doctor. T called our friend A, and the three of us figured out a plan for getting T to the dentist, and me to the ER. I texted Hubby to let him know what was happening, and that I'd keep him updated.

When A arrived, I was sitting on the sofa with my head laying on the arm. We talked about her driving the kids and I to my parents' house, dropping the kids off there, then taking me to the hospital to get looked at. Once Tertius and Quarta's coats and shoes were on, she asked me if I could get up and into her car on my own, and that's when the world started moving out of my control. I sat up, then laid right back down again, on the other couch cushion, unable to stand. A took decisive action and called the ambulance, and I called Hubby in the middle of class to tell him the ambulance had been called - he only answered because he knew something was going on, and me calling would only be in an emergency.

The EMTs got there and did an assessment; the decision was made to transport me to the hospital. I had the chance to call the kids over and explain to them that Mummy was feeling very dizzy and sick, and that the nice men were going to take me to the hospital to help me feel better, and that A was taking them to stay with Granpa and Grandma while that happened. A put my shoes on and the EMTs helped me to stand, walk down the stairs, and get me onto the gurney (I felt like I was falling the whole time, and also like I was leaning horribly to the right). The wave of nausea crashed over me hard, and the dry retching started.

T got picked up, A bundled the kids into her car, and we were all off. I think the door got locked, and my purse was grabbed and put in A's car. The ambulance stayed parked at the end of the driveway for a few minutes while they got some Gravol into me and asked me some more questions. Then I went for the worst car ride of my life. If you ever feel dizzy and nauseous, please avoid driving anywhere.

It took a while to get into the ER proper, and the awesome EMTs stayed with me the whole time. Hubby arrived not long after I did, followed quickly by A. She stayed until I was safely tucked into the ER, and Hubby never left my side. The diagnosis was vertigo, brought on by a nasty viral infection. T kept in touch with Hubby to see how I was, and A went home and made soup for my whole family for dinner. Arrangements were made for my dad to pick the other kids up from school, and they hung out with G&G until I was discharged around 5, I think.

I was still not feeling well; having frequent dizzy spells and nausea. The prescription for vertigo meds was filled, and we headed over to my parents for rest and dinner. Hubby was only able to get a few spoons full of soup into me, so he popped out to the store for Powerade and the prescription. I was still getting hit with overwhelming waves of dizziness and nausea every time my head moved. Mumsy hated seeing me so powerless, and as she also has vertigo, she knew exactly how bad off I was. It was decided that I just couldn't make it back up the stairs that night, so we arranged for Uncle J to kid wrangle overnight, and Hubby and I would couch surf at the 'rents. My father has been experiencing increasingly poor health over the past two years, and his hemoglobin levels had slowly been declining, causing extreme fatigue for him. We've been very worried about his health, but his GP (who retired in December) just chalked it up to getting older.

And here is where I see the hand of God in all of this.

Because I was on the couch, I could hear my father labouring to breathe in his sleep, and his restlessness. Because I was on the couch, I heard my parents whispering at 6:50 AM, talking about how horribly he'd slept, and about the angina he'd been feeling all night. At that, I was wide awake, trying to sit up, and informed them that I was calling an ambulance. By God's grace, Dad didn't argue. Instead, he sighed and said, "Okay."

He spent the next 16 days in hospital, trying to build up his hemoglobin, and undergoing numerous tests to try to determine the cause (without much success, I might add).

It's one thing to come face-to-face with your own frailty, but quite another to be faced with your parent's mortality. I have watched my parents' health decline to the point that I worry for them almost daily.

This wasn't in the manual.

Uncomfortable Truths

Tertius had asked for a playdate with a friend, and the plan was to go to the park near their school after class let out. Now, this park is lovely; it's where we held Tertius' birthday party last month. There's a decent playground, lots of open green space, well-maintained tennis courts, and a good amount of shade from mature trees. But it also has a seedier side. There have been a number of petty crimes (holding people up, fights, etc) there, people misuse the public washroom to do drugs and have sex, and it tends to be populated in the late afternoons/evenings by some pretty unsavory characters.

But at 2:30, it's pretty safe for the primary crowd, so away we went.