little boxlings

So you've no doubt heard of the cuteness that is seed bombs, but this is for those of us with a wee bit more patience and some recycling on our hands. I find that these are a bit more gratifying to receive but much less inconspicuous to plant.

You will need:
plant seeds- I chose carrot, bell pepper and wildflower seeds.
a paper bag or newspaper or just old office paper for folding
Dirt, water& a sunny spot

I used a Trader Joe's paper bag because it was handy and because they say "recycle this bag!"

The bag will compost eventually when you drop your little seedling off in the wild wild world, or when you carefully transplant it into your garden space.

Step one: make a box. You will need a square of paper about 4.5x4.5inches.
It doesn't need to be perfect because you're just filling it with dirt :)


Fold your square in half each way, then unfold and fold in half the other way.

Repeat this diagonally. It will look like this:

Then, Fold the corners in to the center so they touch, unfold.

Fold the tips of the corners in this way:

and now fold each edge into itself and across diagonally:

unfold again, and then repeat all the way around of course.
Next, unfold completely, find a corner, point it away from you, and label it with what seeds you will be planting, like this:
(be as fancy as you like!)

Now fold two corners in towards the center,

Fold up their edges,

and then fold the ends up to close!

Finish the other side
(yay! a box!)
fill with dirt,sprinkle seeds in, water gently and set in a nice sunny spot until you're ready to drop it off somewhere lovely...and repeat!


These would make sweet gifts for your small friends, neighbors, or left in a pretty line at the park

Easy Peasy Kid-Friendly Marbling

One of my favorite things to do with little berry is get creative. From day-to-day this takes on different meanings, but today it was a simple water and coconut oil marbling craft.
I've done this before with baby oil but I don't own that anymore so coconut oil is what I used. You will need:
Paint (we used watercolors, which were very light and food coloring which gave darker colors but less variations)


*Oil (again, we used coconut oil which I melted to a liquid)
*a pan you don't mind getting oily (filled a third full of cool water)
*Paper scraps or pretty paper for making cards and tags
*a place to put your finished papers on to dry
*and of course, an energetic and joyful toddler.

To make pretty paper like ours, fill your pan a third full of cool water. Add a few drops of your oil and allow it to spread out and ball up across the water.


Then add about a teaspoon of different paints and shake the pan slightly so the oil separates and begins to roll through the paint across the pan.


Next, dip a piece of paper in the mixture and let it settle beneath the oil so the paint sticks around the spaces where the oil didn't hit, like this:



Then, lift, allow to drip a little, and place on a plate to dry.



Vóila! You've made marbled paper.



Enjoy, and please make sure your whirlychild is wearing art project friendly clothes :)

Nature home

Around the time of the winter solstice this year, I began a small nature space inside for little berry to enjoy. It was very small at first, a few pebbles, a leaf. Now that spring has slipped around to our part of the world, we are outside more and therefore when we are inside, we tend to bring the outdoors with us.

Besides the nearly constant open doors that allow the outside and inside to merge, we have a beautiful little collection of touch-and-feel nature items where little berry can stop&touch, pat, smell, admire, be creative and even sometimes, sing.


I was hesitant at first because I assumed it would be pretty messy, but I've enjoyed it. It tend to calm her down when she's acting wired or anxious and has her looking at her world closet when we're out and about, thinking about things that she can bring to the little space.


I also love that it tends to present an opportunity to learn about seasons, animals, plants, insects and weather all at once. We're also not a religious family so our table conversation is always science-based, but nature is a very important part of our life and lifestyle.




Does your family do a nature table? What items generally find their way inside in your little one's scrunched up fist or pockets?

Late night musings of an eternal mamma

I give her little face a kiss and she tucks her head into the crook of my neck. I smell like a mama, she smells strongly of bubbles and strawberries, a result of her affinity to sneaking the soap bar when she's fully clean and my hastiness to pull the tub stopper as the water gets chilly.

I knelt by the tub tonight, watching her soap her own toes and firmly refusing to brush her teeth. I swept a washcloth behind her ears, under her curvy chin, and wondered: how long she will need me yet? As I scooped water into the palm of my hand to rinse the day away, I glimpsed a bigger girl with memories and stories to spill out, with an eagerness and lightness of her father's and a the voice of a dreamer like me. Her hair swirled down around the top of her neck in a way I had never seen it do before, tracing rivulets down her spine and joining the bath again. My heart whispered: will I always know her this well?

The night is long at times, spent shuffling (those ever growing) little feet back under the blankets and getting up for water, worrying over my two dearest loves as they sleep, as if they were both my children, and I suppose in a very primal way they are. Both are sound in my nest all night, tucked around one another and oblivious to this mama's dually committed heart thrumming away, wanting to hold them both at once.

I fear her growing because I'm terrified I haven't got it down. I want longer to get it right before she will know that I am misguided, before she sees my faults. Eventually I'm sure she will recognize me as a pawn. I don't know the rules. I don't know the steps, I can't dance this fast and in these shoes.

As I scooped her from the tub and she pressed her face into the crook of my neck, we went in search of pajamas for the night. Pulling from the basket nearest me, I found my fingers wrapped around a tiny set of pajamas too small for any girl of mine. These were hers nearly two winters ago, just as we were seated deep in worry about our future, cold and jobless with no hope or vision for that to change, when there were too many hours each day spent sitting in classrooms waiting to graduate so I could hold my daughter whenever I pleased; hoping that my classmates didn't see my breasts leaking, at times wondering that they did not smell my fear that this route they celebrated with joy I counted as hell and yearned for it to end.

Darker hours in the shivering winter spent fighting with Pappa because my heart was never in school again, I could spare it all just to be a mamma. These were the pajamas she wore the morning we drove to the polls to vote for idealistic "Change," and the morning my sweet friend Jessy came to visit after her weekly Chemo battering. She smiled and yet looked faint, she sang to my wee babe about teething gums while I worried about my girl, who had immediately fixed herself on this splendid friend to investigate her thoroughly- I hope that my own girl will be as open-minded, loving and generous each step of the way as this beautiful young woman I am blessed to know.

This instinct to protect is not exclusive to the faces we see and love each day. It is not limited to the hands we hold or gently scold, and the tiny feet that pitter-patter and sometimes "THRUMP!" around, making tangible progress and marking the traits that will be theirs for life right before our eyes. It is for the children we don't get to hold, the ones we were ourselves, the ones we see on the television while their mother's wail. These children, these little sparks that flash for only a moment, that always have to face the cold with empty tummies, they are why my heart is breaking for my own. I stood in front of my mother when I was seven and told her I wanted to save all of the orphans, and asked her why we didn't try to help. Her reasoning was complicated and altogether simple at the same moment, yet her theory fell deaf to my ears and I am sure that day I stopped believing in universal love.

This is the joy called motherhood, I share it with many strong and willing women now, and before me. Surely more will come after me as well. Some bear a multitude of souls into the world and some never kiss a single tear frosted cheek, but all have willing, loving, open hearts. We swap tips and laughs and fears. We all dream big, and none of us wants our children to resist our open arms. This is the joy called motherhood. It is the voice of universal love.

Do something kind for another person today. Do it for your heart, and mine, which needs reminding that humanity is always embraced by mothers.