Tiny House Counter Tops

The counter tops in the kitchen are in a constant state of reinvention.
The toaster gets moved, the heavy stand mixer gets moved, the banana tree hangs out in different spots, the toaster occasionally finds a new home.
But not the coffee maker. That has to stay where it is, so that bleary eyes don't accidentally punch buttons on the blender, instead.
The counter top is always cluttered.
I tried have clear, slightly decorated counters.
Then I realized that my printer and computer need to sit on one end.
I don't want to have to pull the mixer out of the cupboard every time I want to use it. I used to store it in the cupboard. I didn't do much mixing during that year.
The necessary clutter seems to work like a black hole, though. It attracts other clutter. It builds until finally, a person can't butter a slice of toast without fighting envelopes and school papers and coupon fliers.
Usually, I grab one of the empty Huggies diaper boxes, put all the clutter in it, and promise to go through the box tonight.
Tonight, of course, meaning some night later in the week.
In any event, the papers are moved, the crumbs are swept out from under the toaster, the extraneous markers and pencils are fished out from behind the printer, and all is well.
Until the mail is brought in again. 

Thank You Armed Services!

Thank you, Grandpa. Thank you, Uncle. Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Cousin. Thank you, sister-in-law. Thank you, Brother-in-law, Thank you, Armed Service Men and Women.
Thank you because I  can write whatever I want on this blog.
Thank you because I can make educational choices for my children.
Thank you because I can buy whatever it pleases me to buy at the grocery store.
Thank you because I can grow my own food.
Thank you because I can go to church wherever I please.
Thank you because I can pursue hobbies at my leisure.
Thank you because I can work where I choose.
Thank you.

Four to a Closet

Let's talk about closets. Real closets.
Not those ones in magazines and the California Closet ads.
Seriously.
In a 1,000 sf house, we have THOSE closets. The reach in kind that are about 8 feet wide.
How in the name of Zeus (why not? who else's name should I shout in frustration?) am I supposed to fit clothing for four boys in one of these things?
I do it, though.
I use every square inch of space.
I had a rockin' set up a little while back. It was easy to navigate, there was room for everything, and I could use the floor to store toy buckets.
And then. The boys grew. How dare they?
Their pants, especially, no longer fit in the designated space. They hung over the edge of the shelf and sometimes fell off. When this would happen, the older boys would 'clean' their room by picking up these entire loads of pants and dumping them in the hamper, then complaining that they had no clean pants. *sigh*
Well, remember that post about how clean and uncluttered my room is now?
That was when I gave up my tower of wire baskets to the boy's room.
My pants fit in those just right, so I figured theirs would, too.
It's like a miracle!
Except now, none of the boys can reach to put a shirt on a hanger, and only two can reach to pull on off.
It CAN be done, but you won't find the plans at any fancy organizational store.
I asked once, and got quite the reaction. People don't hardly fathom children sharing rooms at all anymore, let alone four of them.
They are getting bigger, and bigger, though. It won't be too many years before their shoulders are broad and their legs are all long. I don't know how we'll manage the hallway then.

The Tiny House Intro

When a large family lives in a tiny house, there is clutter.
We live in the USA. That means we have 'stuff'.
Nine people's worth of 'stuff'.
Two parents in a room, four boys in a room, three girls in a room
Enough seating at the table for everyone to eat at the same time. Not really. We are short one chair.
That has worked as long as one was in a high chair. But we ran out of room for a high chair when we needed seating for six. So, we rarely sit all around the table at the same time.
We have just enough dishes for two meals. Unless we do to meals in a bowl and one on plates. We are constantly washing dishes.
I am grateful to have dishes. And chairs. And a table.
I am always doing laundry. We wash an average of 15 loads of laundry per week.
I am grateful to have clothes to wash.
I am grateful to have machines to wash and dry them in.
*screeeeech*
Wait. No washing machine. Hubby is trying to diagnose and correct the problem, but currently the washing machine is broken. Our machines break down often.
We have been the glad recipients of a few gently used machines over the past several years. Then we use them. The machines seem to rebel against the industrial use they get at our home and give out after a couple of years.
This machine lasted almost a year.
Now we are hunting for a new washing machine, and I have to admit, my eyes are wide!
There are machines in which I could fit bedding, pillows, and the kids's stuffies!
There are machines in which I could fit my king size comfortor!
There are machines that take such a large load, the I could, theoretically, do 5-7 loads a week and STILL get the same amount of laundry clean!
Just think of how many more blog posts I could write!
How many items I could crochet!
How much oftener my bathrooms could be cleaned! Well, okay, maybe not the bathrooms...

Unfinished Projects

We all have unfinished projects. Right? I'm sure it isn't just me.
I am a procrastinator. I do my best work under pressure. I know this about myself.
So, if there isn't any pressure, whatever it is probably won't be finished.
An afghan that I started for my husband six years ago. It's almost lap sized.
A sweater that I started for my daughter before she was born. She's 8 now. The sweater was newborn size.
The mop boards are still not put back after we replaced our flooring. Five years ago.
There's an area on a wall in my daughters' room where I started to paint. Three years ago.
None of these projects had a deadline. None had to be done in order for another project to begin.
Not one of these projects were more important than the numerous other projects that DID get finished instead.
I prefer quick, non-messy, easy-to-assemble project. When it comes to crafty projects, I prefer beading, hot gluing, quick drying ink and stamp projects, double sided tape, begin and end in the same day with instant results type of projects.
And I have children. Lots of children. TheZoo, as we affectionately refer to ourselves.
Children are not quick, non-messy, easy-to-assemble, instant results type of projects.
They are ongoing investments. They require sweat, blood and tears. There are mile stones along they way, and the project doesn't end. The results are on going. There IS pressure to do this well. Really, to do it at all.
This isn't my favorite kind of project.
To be honest, I don't even like this kind of project.
I am learning to love it, though. Parenting my children, that is.
When I look at the road ahead in our journey with little ones growing into bigger ones, it often looks endless. The forks in the road feel harrowing. The heartache of sometimes taking the wrong bend and having to turn around sometimes feels debilitating.
But this can not go the way of the afghan, or the sweater, or the mop boards.
It must go the way of repetition. It must go the way of patience. It must go the way of waiting, watching, and guiding.
I'm not good at this, but I'm learning along the way.
I don't like this, but strangely, I love it.
It is agonizingly difficult, but gloriously worth every single moment. 

MORE Rain?

Okay, I own The (old) Farmer's Almanac.
 The clever little poem in the May section does indicate that it will be wet this week. I just didn't want to believe it.
Last week was fantastic, beautiful, gorgeous. Lovely! It was a promise of fantastic summer days to come. Apparently, they will come later.
Hubby has the week off, so I planned on getting yard work done today.
I guess we can still trim, pull and move things in the rain. It will all just be heavier.
Bummer. The only time my skin gets any color is when I work outside.
Really. If I sit outside on purpose trying to get color, I get nothing, or else I get burned. When I WORK in the sun, I get nice color.
When I work in the rain, I stay a nice pasty white.
*sigh*

Summer Time Dreamin'

Since Santa isn't creeping at the back door today, I was able to get outside and peek at the wisteria. It's beginning to bloom!
I'm excited to see them in full flower. Here they are today.

I'm thrilled each spring with the idea of gardening. In my mind, I garden like Martha Stewart.  In reality, I barely garden at all.
Every year, I start out. Some years I am all about pulling weeds and dead things, pruning back, rescuing the fence line from blackberry canes.
Other years, I plant things, and tend to them for a while. But. Usually, each year, I am largely pregnant or have a newborn.
Hubby's work schedule hasn't allowed him to be helpful at home (until recently) so tending my flowers were never high on his priority list. Fixing our vehicles, mowing the lawn, bringing the bacon, and sleeping occasionally seemed more important.
This year, it's different. This year, there is no newborn. There is no swell of pregnancy. Hubby's work schedule is less hectic.
HELLLLLOOOOOO YARD!!!
The Rhodies and climbing hydrangea that are behind the shed will make their way to the front yard.
The ivy and black berry vines from next door that are creeping up our birch tree will be vanquished.
The grass will be cut out to make way for future flower and vegetable beds.
We will have curb appeal!