A Confession: I have a (little) dream

Am I allowed to have dreams and aspirations as a mama? It almost feels like during these young years of my children's life I shouldn't.

But I do.

I have been knitting. And knitting. And knitting. And people tell me I should sell some of my stuff, and here's my confession:

I want to.

First of all, I really enjoy doing it. Second of all, it's not exactly a cheap hobby and would be nice if it started paying back even a little. And third, it appears my living room is starting to drown under pom pom toques that really deserve a home.

I have been struggling however with mixed feelings on the whole endeavor. Do I really have enough time to do this? What if I invest a bunch of time and money and nothing really comes of it? (I guess in that case everyone can just expect knitwear gifts from me for the next 20 years). Should I be dedicating this time to my family instead?

I'm feeling it hard as a mama to know how much time to give to myself. You're told it's important to do. You yearn for it. But the other day I got out of the house for an hour to go to Starbucks to enjoy a coffee and work on some patterns, and pretty much as soon as I sat down with my pumpkin spice latte, I missed my boys. I missed my husband. The freedom felt nice yes, but at the same time I missed my men. Talk about inner conflict.

They clearly suffer without me. 

Keith sent me this adorable picture of Sam while they were at the park and I was enjoying alone-coffee-time. How am I not supposed to miss them?!

All the same though, I would like to try this little dream of mine on for size. It appears to have become a little passion project of mine, and nothing beats doing something for the joy of doing it right? I'm gladly taking all knitting requests (littlespruceknits@gmail.com) and hope to officially open little spruce knits ↟ on etsy soon!
 

Shameless plug: you can keep up with my knitting adventure pictures on Instagram @littlespruceknits

stay warm. stay cozy.

xx

Anna

Things To Talk About

I almost began this post by saying "I wish I had more things to talk about than motherhood".

But really, I don't.

I like talking about my kids. I like talking about your kids. My life, like that of so many other mamas, revolves around my children. I know it's nice to remember your sense of self sometimes, to still feel like you, and I still get those snippets now and then; but realistically, when things come down to it, these tiny humans of mine are what my world spin 'round. And are often pretty much all I have to talk about.

Yes I go to a football game now and then. Yes there is a running list of projects I'd like to get done once we're back home at our cabin. But really, the vast majority of my days are spent watching Will like a hawk, trying to determine whether or not he needs to get put on the potty, and smiling at Sam as he sits on the floor blowing spit bubbles and dancing with his rolly little arms. Many days are spent with cheers for successful toilet trips, baby giggles, clapping to the guitar, big toddler hugs, squishy baby hugs, and peaceful naps. There are also plenty of days where I try to hide in the dining room, searching my bible and my coffee cup for patience and grace, days where I cry at the foot of our bed, days of screaming and crying and teething and cleaning poopy underwear. Days where bedtime just can't come fast enough. Days where I vent my frustrations on my husband. Days where when all is said and done I just really want a glass of wine, but oh look, I'm pregnant again, so I pull out a bucket of ice cream instead.

These babies of mine are beautiful and perfect and healthy and strong and silly and tempermental and dramatic and everything else that small children should be. And my life is consumed by them, and I'm blessed to be able to say that. So when I look at it in all honesty, the majority of the time there isn't much else I can contribute to conversation right now.

And that's alright.

Life in Gatineau

We are back in Gatineau.

After a brief stint in downtown Ottawa, we are now back in the wilderness of Gatineau, which feels much more our "style". A big yard for Will to run around wildly. A full house for us to be as noisy and stompy as we want, and windows that we leave open all day and hear the birds singing from sun up to sun down.

Football has started up again. I wonder sometimes how we got into this strange life. I would have never in my wildest dreams imagined that we would be moving across the country twice a year. How uprooted we would feel. How it would so impact my heart. We now at least have our cabin in Alberta as an anchor for our wandering souls. And know that no matter what we have a little 800 square feet to call our own and go back to, regardless of where we are for such a large chunk of our year. It provides a reassurance that I can't begin to describe.

I try my best to keep in mind that "home is where ever I'm with you". You being my husband, and our two darling boys. And as long as we are together, that is the most important thing.

This week I was reading Psalms after supper with Will, and we came across Psalm 46:10...

"Be still, and know that I am God"

After a particularly trying and turbulent week, I feel like my soul needed this. It's funny how those verses always seem to come at the right time.

Harmony

It has been a sad week. We had to say good bye to one of the longest standing members of the Husch family.

Harmony lived 32 years, 25 of which were spent with our family. She had a wonderful life for a horse. She always had a safe and green pasture, trimmed feet, and was surrounded by her children up until the day she died. What more could anyone want?

She was my babysitter, and the horse I sat on when I could barely even walk. The horse I begged to sit on while she grazed freely in the yard. The horse who taught me how to ride. The horse who taught me about falling and getting back up. The horse who taught me to always watch where I placed my feet. Who was the subject of my first 4H speech. Who taught me how to be tough without being mean. Who taught me to respect my elders. Who taught me that a horse can be so much more than a horse. 

It's hard to believe that when we go back to the farm that bossy old dame won't be there ruling the roost. 

Rest easy old mare. You were a queen of a horse. 

Missing the prairies

As content as I am with knowing 

that where we are in our life right now 

is where we are supposed to be...

.... Some days I just really miss Saskatchewan.