{ Mu'Mu }

This Bag

This bag of mine has been accompanying us on farm trips and road trips the tail end of summer. I don't think, until now, that it has made it's way onto the blog though. Which is amazing and deplorable.

So I would like to rectify that right now! Because where would I be in this coming harvest season without this amazing tote that is large enough to hold a small child, let alone pumpkins, corn and the last of the season's fruit?!

The pattern can be found in Cath Kidston's Sew! {which, incidently also contains all the materials to make that bag shown on the front cover} which was gifted to me by a dear friend a season (or two) ago, and which has been begging to be made.

The tote, although amazingly simple to construct, is truly a genius design, having the capacity to double it's size with breath taking ease. Perfect for those times that I buy a little bit too much stuff than is really humanly possible to carry.

The pattern called for home dec weight (upholstery fabric), and given that it is so large that the weight of it's content might call for strong fabric I went with some light canvas weight Denyse Schmidt in mustard, which I have been saving for just the right project.

If I were to make this bag again, though, {and I can't see why I wouldn't - I mean, beach picnics, for example, require stupid amounts of items which two bags might just cover!} I think I would modify it to include an inner lining, for added strength, and an outside wrap-around pocket for easy access to purses, keys, phones and things that don't want to be crushed under a gross weight of organic vegetables or lost in sandy, wet beach towels.

All in all the pattern is terrifically easy and the bag so very useful. And the fuller the bag the more amazing it looks, which, I'm sure you'd agree, is a totally valid excuse to go shopping!

Yes, it really is.

***And for even more bag heaven stay tuned for my very own bag pattern  - a bag which I designed for myself for this coming harvest season called, appropraitely, Mu'Mu's Apples & Pears Harvest Bushel Basket - soon insha'allah***

How we rocked it

What a busy and FULL few days this happy, masha'allah, family has had! The boys have declared this the best Eid EVER, and as I happily played, cooked, knit and sat and watched it all - tired and so very grateful - I asked the boys to tell you about their Eid.

This is what they considered important to share ::

Boys With A Camera

What can I say? I'm raising Nikon babies. An afternoon of *carefully* sharing Mama's camera (the mantra 'mind the lens, mind the lens, mind the lens' firmly of their lips) and a disk full of their views of the world, I have permission to show you some of their captures::

Geniuses, I'm sure you'd agree.

No, I am not biased.

Knitting :: The beginning, The Middle, and The End

A day in the life of a skein of yarn in our house. Quickly and enthusiastically balled up and on the needles before you can blink.

The recent cold weather had me thinking of winter woollens earlier than normal this year. Usually it isn't til mid September or later before I start scouring Ravelry for hat and mitten patterns, but here we are at the tail end of August with the first of the winter knits already off the needles! I like to think this makes me ahead of the game... hm..

And the photo shoot? The midget had very definite plans of standing with his flag. His England flag. He was very insistent about it and styled it in his own unique way.

And now, to stay ahead of the game, I still have a whole skein left to make mittens and gators - matchy matchy...

Decisions, decisions

Such awful decision-making times.... yellow, blue, black.... *sigh* it's a burden, really.

Luckily, I have my very own button-chooser who likes to help his Mama by rummaging through the button jars and finding juuuuust the right one.

What would I do without him?

Just in case you had forgotten ...

Just in case you had forgotten, or I haven't told you in a while, you are the light within my lamp, you are the sole cause of my smiles. I love the way your thoughts rush too quickly for your speech; I love the way your love of life makes you bound around every corner looking for the next adventure.  I love the way you always do what I ask you to, I love the way you help. I love the way that I can honestly say that you are my best friend. I never appreciated your intense desire for knowledge until recently, and I love that too. I love your beautiful face masha'allah and those dreamy eyes of yours. I love your infectious smile. I love your honesty and your ability to tell the truth even when it is against your own self. I love that a lot. I love the fact that you look after your brother, even though, let's face it, he can be a real PITA sometimes. I love the way you taught him how to make wudu, and how you make sure he prays masha'allah.

I admire your commonsense, and how, when the adults of the house are spitting their dummies, it is you who stand as the voice of reason, with your hands on your hips telling us to calm down and behave with adab, and to not behave like people with no deen. I love the way you understand my nagging, and how you have the strength of character to know your own worth. I love the way you understand how the pendulum settles after each extreme, and know how to find your centre.

I marvel at your ability to make friends masha'allah. Like yesterday when you ran ahead of me into the park and by the time I had caught up you were already playing hide and seek with two other boys like you'd known each other all your lives, just because you had happened to ask them if they wanted to be friends and have a game.

You love life, and because of you, so do I. Truly, you are an amazing person. I am so glad I know you. I am honoured to be your mother. I love you with a heart I never knew I had.

Just in case you had forgotten.

Most Days Are Like This

Yes, my children really *do* go out dressed up like lions and crocodiles. This current obsession is 'soldiers' and 'fighter pilots'. They are under direct orders from the Ministry of Silly Walks. Today's order is to visit the museum on a reconnaissance mission.

No, Madam, I am not training them for the Taliban.

Going for the Yarn Look

In one of my more lucid moments last week, I had the good sense to buy yarn. Buying yarn does not need a reason, but I had a reason anyway - I wanted a variety of colours in the stash instead of the slew of teals, mustards, greys and blues I have amassed.

Because in my lucid moment of yarn buying I envisaged myself in Ramadan sitting contentedly in the chair crocheting blankets for the coming winter as I did dhikr whilst my children played co-operative games whilst also doing dhikr. And singing kum-by-ah. Holding hands.

In my perfectly lucid, tea-drinking, eating cake moment this was how the coming month was going to be. Ah, yes.

Then Ramadan came; the children did not sing kum-by-ah. I am not sitting in the easy chair crocheting whilst hymning the praises of my Lord. We are not playing co-operative games and being angelic. No. We are in the crash position. We are wondering why, of all religions to pick, did we choose Islam and not Buddhism. We cannot be arsed to pick a crochet hook up. We may even entertain evil ideas of what could be done with a crochet hook. We may even be in bed letting the babes watch DVDs all day. That's the reality.

So, instead, the yarn stays tucked up ready for cake-eating days, in it's little rack under the table by the easy chair. It has gone from being a stash to an art installation, from yarn to decor.

And I think I quite like it like that.

{this moment}

A nice change of pace

 

We're enjoying the change of pace here: we've swapped constant traffic noise and sirens and go go go, for absolute quiet, interrupted only by the urgent calls of birds and their newly fledged babes.

Another nice change is being near so much water - shore and lakeside. There is something so very relaxing about being near water, and the babes are visibly happy here too.

Soon we'll be heading home, back to noise, and grit and city life. We'll try and soak as much of this pace of life up as much as possible.

Picnics by the river

 

Am I boring you with all these roadtrip pictures?

Indulge me a while, would you?

Picnics by the river is something we're enjoying right now too.

Some Scenes From the Woods

At the end of the road

 

 

 

They say there is gold at the end of the rainbow, but at the end of the road, about as far West as you can go, you find something better - a little bit of heaven.

Stocking Up

Our library; a source of endless delight to my Eldest who loves books like you or I love chocolate. 

This is one place I see as a sanctuary - a place of reprieve and rejuvenation for information-thirsty seekers of knowledge. A place of quiet. A place where Mama can sit and watch two people relax, learn and have fun - all under one roof - for free!

Truly, a place to inspire gratitude.

{this moment}

Real Simple Patchwork Blankets

We've been lucky enough recently to have had some real summer days. Hot, hot sun. Perfect summer weather with no complaints from me!

Following on from the hot days are sometimes some rather muggy nights and in an attempt to aid restful sleep I made the babes some summer weight patchwork blankets for their bed, just in case it got too hot for their duvets.

I can't sleep without  covers - the summer patchwork blanket I made for our bed last year does me very well on those nights when it's too hot for real blankets, and too cold for nothing, and with the same plan in mind I whipped these up.

4x5 12 inch patches, blanket back, sew right sides together, turn, and finish by stitching all around the edge and tying for good measure. That's it. Just real simple patchwork blankets.

And I can confirm the boys love them. And if nothing else it adds a lively splash of colour to their room

Weekending :: quietly celebrating

Organised Chaos

In an attempt (please understand the importance of that word 'attempt') to bring this household to order and instill some kind of method to this madness I have attempted ('attempted') to craft our way to organisation, the granny chic way. Which, I'm sure you'd agree, is the best way to go in matters such as this.

When it comes to organisation I will freely admit I'm useless, ney, pathologically resistant. I hate living my life to a timetable. I hate big clocks. I hate schedules. I hate committing to an agreed time, hate booking tickets in advance, hate having to write in a diary that three months hence I will be doing xyz in the land of abc. It's weird. It would be therapist fodder for years, I have no doubt. But I cannot live this way any longer!!

My goodness I am a homeschooling Mama winging it on a daily basis and now the babes are older we need structure, we really do. And so, like most things in my life, I have had to get a grip for the sake of the kids and try to get a handle on this mothering gig.

Enter The Board...

A doilified board isn't really a Board is it? I mean, it looks so harmless. Jazzy, but harmless.

I have it in mind to get all my brain onto flashcards and have them pinned up on The Board in the glare of full light of day to aid in this new found Mama Me; shopping lists, things that need doing, what we will be doing every day of the week in terms of learning and commitments, and best of all - meal planning and chores *falls over* yes, meal planning and chores. I think perhaps I may have over-stretched myself in this department.

But not just chores for me! Hurrah! I have also now included an organised way of including the boys in this torture too. Everyday they check The Board and get going on helping with the work of this home. And let me tell you - these boys of mine are GOOD workers masha'allah. They really are. I have been so impressed by their eagerness, commitment and quality of their work, and I can't tell you how much of a burden has been lifted off this tired mama's shoulders.

So far chores for them have included : vacuuming, dusting, monitoring the bookshelves, monitoring the toy baskets, monitoring the art and paper supplies, cleaning the kitchen cupboard doors and fridge, cleaning the bathroom sink, washing some dishes, putting dishes away, filling and emptying the washing machine, sweeping the floor, folding towels and putting their own clothes away. Have I missed anything?

So there you have it - the whole of my life in a doilified cork board. Hopefully, HOPEFULLY, I will crack this homeschooling Mama gig. Hopefully before my children leave home.

Weekend Randomness

Random pictures from a hit and miss weekend. I've been struck down with the re-emerging bug from hell that I had a couple weeks back, so if any of you are kind enough to make a du'a/pray for me, I would be one grateful mama.

The Mamas and the Papas

This picture is almost five years old exactly; I remember the time clearly. I was frazzled and confused due to sleep deprivation bordering on torture. I hadn't used both my arms at the same time for quite a while. I was hungry and about to grab something to eat before he kicked up a fuss and demanded to be clamped on my nipple. The babe, that is ... and instead I grabbed my camera and clicked away at these two getting to know one another. One huge great big silverback male and one puny little matchstick; guess which one the boss is....

It's true that we've had our ups and downs. Or maybe downs and ups. Or even downs and downs. But one thing I will say about this resident squatter husband of mine is that he is an excellent Daddy masha'allah. Any idiot can make a baby, but I think it takes something rather special to be a father; my boys really don't know how lucky they are.

But I do.

Happy Father's Day

xx

Scenes From My Kitchen

I'm not a natural 'foodie'; to be honest, the topic of food and meal preparation bores me beyond endurance, and if there is any job I would gladly give up in an instant it would be that of food provider.

I have spent the majority of my adult life living on toast and sandwiches; not because I am incapable of cooking, but because I just don't want to. It just seems that the energy expended in cooking the damn meal and cleaning up after it far exceeds that which is contained in the meal itself. And I have never been able to get excited about food. I just don't get it. Food is fuel which you shove in your gob to prevent the agent of death from taking hold. I have found that the worse food tastes the better it is for you and, worse, chocolate isn't even a food group.

Mealtimes are something I struggle with. Maybe it is because nobody likes anything I cook and pick over every morsel like they are conducting a forensic investigation determining just what the hell this crap on the plate in front of them is. Maybe it is because we have one male who considers anything not ruined by chili and tumeric or deep fat fried a non-food and ergo inedible; one male who likes only burgers; and one midget male who has a passionate loathing of bread, rice, vegetables, anything green, anything red, anything that began it's life as a seed or anything beginning with 'p'. When, exasperated, I asked him one day he DID want to eat, he emphatically announced, 'cake!' (is there any doubt he is my child?).

But even though I hate mealtimes and have an indifference bordering on the pathological towards food, I DO try to remember that mealtimes are more than just the food.

Sitting around the table as a family is something that can quickly be forgotten about in a quest for peace and expediency, especially as we all seem to have different body clocks when it comes to hunger, but there is something so fundamentally fulfilling about breaking bread together, that even though I can never get excited about food, I find myself getting quite passionate about having a family around a table together. It is the only thing that gets me cooking - the thought of a nicely laid table and the people I love around it talking. And one day, they may even eat my food.

That might be a good feeling too.

What meals are you cooking? Any recipes that you'd care to share? I really need some simple and tasty options!

Lounge Pants - Take 2

Remember the (garish) lounge pants of mine from last year? I managed to make the most comfortable pair of pants from two thrifted pillowcases. Well, here I have gone one better by making a pair of lounge pants from only one pillowcase - for the babes.

They humour me.

London Calling

It's been a long time since I've been up to London. A very long time. I think I was still a real person and not even married the last time I went. That's a LONG time.

Last week my sister and I went to catch a show in theatreland - All My Sons at the Apollo a much needed child-free, brain reviving, intelligence fodder, sister bonding session that was sorely needed.

The show was, unsurprisingly given that it stars David Suchet and Zoe Wanamaker, brilliant. There simply are not enough superlatives to praise this show enough; it borders on being an absolute masterpiece and if you are in London this summer and can catch only one show I highly recommend it.

I also highly recommend having a fun sister who encourages you to do it all again soon.

And really I should - I have forgotten how much I love this city, and how deep down in my bones I've always been a city girl at heart.

So next up? Well I haven't been to the Tate Modern in a good while and I'm sure there are a few places I haven't even thought of that would be just the place for two giggly women on their next bloke-free get-together?

Sounds good.

When Plans Fail...

When your best plan fails, when life sends you an unexpected bolt out of the clear blue, when somewhere you had hoped to spend the day is just SHUT, then resort to Plan B.

Find somewhere outside, preferably near water and play equipment, kick off your shoes, sit back and watch the show. And to make Plan B seem better than Plan A a treat never went amiss.

No harm was ever done to a day by adding a big slab of cake.

Yes. Us too

I cannot resist a typewriter in a thrift shop. I just can not. I know I'm not the only one. And just like others it's often the babes who have all the fun with Mama's thrift finds.

Right now? I think we're working on writing our name - this is important y'see - the first thing on the cover of any masterpiece is the author's name. Over and over again. Right down the page. Without spaces.

We're working on it....

Most Days Are Like This

Not many days go by in summer without some kind of bug investigation - one year I remember the midget had a thing for dead worms - I don't know if he was measuring them or trying to wake them up, but he played with them a lot (NB. they were dead before he started playing with them - honest!)

Woodlouse colonies are a firm fave here - especially when they find the bright white babies. Endless oohing and ahhing.

This year we have gone one step further by entrapping the bugs with a cunning trap, involving a pit, a slippery container, some smelly cheese and a plastic roof.

Some days we just luck out and find things right in front of us - like Chris here - or Chrys if you prefer ("he will turn into a chrysalis, Mummy") - pretty sure he's a moth caterpillar. We played with him for a while - the midget even kissed him (he hit him in the face by accident resulting in Chris curling up. Before I knew it Midget had said "oooh sorry!!" and a big smackeroony had been planted before I could even dry heave) - then we put him in the hatching chamber to continue our investigations further.

There are advantages to having fearless bug hunters in the house - they catch spiders for their Mama and don't mind carrying the wriggly critters to the top of the garden before releasing them. They have no fear of ugly, many-legged monstrosities which have most of us squealing like a girl from on top of a stool (ahem).

The downside of this fearlessness? well I am at a distinct disadvantage if, say, they want to run after me with a big, black spider in their hands? The fact that my house is home to ugly bugs most of the summer? The fact that I have to pretend to find moths interesting instead of hideous??

These little people teach me so much, and stretch me in ways I would never have dreamed about. And even though they kiss bugs, I am so terribly proud of their fearlessness. Masha'allah.

Falling in love again...

After pressing every button I have, and then some, there is one button these kids of mine just keep on pressing - I don't know what it is, but some days I fall madly in love with them more than ever before. And even their crappy stuff is funny and cute and awe-inspiring.

I love you, Muppets.

xx

{ this moment }

A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Dear Family,

I love you, but I could, at least once an hour on the hour, happily slap the living sh*t out of each and every one of you several times over.

I love you, but there are several things I don't particularly love about the way things happen here. I don't like the fact that I am cast as the bad-guy while your father gets the adoration. That sucks. But then, if he actually disciplined you once in a while instead of gently saying 'don't do that, ok?' then maybe I wouldn't have to grab you by the scruff of the neck and scream obscenities in your face from time to time. Oh and the fact that I do every frigging thing in the house that means you can live your life free from infection and communicable disease, but people only notice when I *don't* do something rather than all the stuff I *DO* do whilst your father gets a round of applause for putting two pieces of toast in front of your faces every morning?? That sucks too.

I dislike the fact that you treat me like a cross betweenn a waiter and a dog - some weird hybrid betweenn go-getter and whipping post, because I swear if I talked to my parents the way you talk to me I would be lying in a shallow grave right now.

I dislike the fact that no one ever says 'thankyou' without a degree of sarcasm in their voices. I'm talking to my husband here, actually. I don't know whether it's a masculine tendency to believe deep down in their bones that marriage is an unwritten contract of abject bondage to white household appliances, but I am getting mightily cheesed off with doing the lion's share of the work around these here parts without so much as a kiss on the cheek, or a 'we appreciate what you do for us' bribe. Flowers? those things that grow on stalks? They are pickable you know, and push come to shove you can even find them in stores already precut and packaged up. I like freesias, lilacs and poenies, just so you know. Chocolate does it for me too - you realise that my girlfriends give me more chocolate than you have ever done. And I'm tired of you skanking that off me too. Presents - those bribes that men give their women to stop them bitching about getting a dishwasher? Has that never crossed your mind? Unless you think I'm getting PAID for this mind-meltingly, tedious, boring, unthanked pile of crap I call a life? If you are struggling for ideas - shoes, flowers, chocolate, a cup of tea in bed without the strop, the dishes washed without being asked, a new floor in the extension? The little things mean so much.

Yes, I am a bitch; I scream and shout and swear. I get tired and ratty and irritated. A lot. I am not one of those women who find shovelling sh*it fulfilling. I think I was meant to be somebody's darling rather than somebody's gofer, and so if I shout when there is a sink full of dishes piled up to the taps, in imminent danger of cascading over the edge and you decide to add one. more. plate, just ask yourself 'why'? Could it be that Debbie is tired of living with human slugs who blithely barge through life leaving a trail of destruction behind them? Could it be that Debbie is tired of doing tasks that other people think is well beneath them, tasks so utterly boring that they would make a monkey's brain bleed? Could it be that years of being an unpaid skivvy is wearing very thin very fast?

Hm. Why yes, yes it could.

I want to be thanked, and helped and adored, and appreciated. And gifted. And smiled at. Without the sarcasm. Is that really too much bother for you?

To finish off my darlings, here is a quotation I found on someone elses blog. If I find the author I will attribute insha'allah. It's worth bearing in mind....

"Whatever you give a woman, she’ll make it greater. Give her sperm; she’ll give you a baby. Give her a house; she'll make it a home. Give her groceries; she’ll make you a meal. Give her a hug and she’ll give you her heart. She multiplies & enlarges whatever she’s given. So if you give her crap, be ready to receive a ton of sh*t!"

Such wisdom.

Ballet, not Belly, Dancers

Mama got her trip to the ballet this week, with boys eagerly in tow. No desire to be ballet dancers, though, although the Midget has expressed an earnest desire to marry a ballet dancet because she was so pretty. Hm.

It was such an enjoyable performance, not least because I don't remember the last time I went to the ballet! And having company of two loud whisperers asking WHAT'S GOING ON NOW??! - well funnily enough the company was the icing on the cake.

Back to more Memories tomorrow.

x