As a parent, I know how hard this can be. We have inconsolable infants in church. We have had to carry out a screaming toddler on more than one occasion. We have had to chase down a toddler intent on checking out the alter – at top speed. We have had to hush her when she got too loud and calm her when she just could. NOT. sit still any longer.

Many parents bring an emergency stash of toys or crayons to keep their kids occupied. We have largely resisted this temptation (tempting, though it may be). Why? Well, there are many reasons. For starters, our experience is that a child can make distracting noise with pretty much anything. Crayons can be poured out onto the pew at a quiet moment. (Been there, done that. Repeatedly.) Plus, having toys sends the message that this is play time which makes it harder to convince her that she needs to be quiet.

However, one of our main reasons for limiting toys (and having kids in church more generally) is that if she is completely absorbed with toys or other distractions, that means she is not absorbing anything from the church service going on around her. Or rather, it means we are not making the effort to involve her in the service. We’ve developed a whole arsenal of toddler-management strategies for when she can no longer keep herself occupied and quiet.

• We can point out and discuss what’s going on the services. (“Oh look. Father has the censer with the bells. Can you hear them?”)
• We can discuss the icons. (“Who is sitting on that donkey?” “Mar-wee and a baby!” “What’s the baby’s name?” “Jesush!”)
• On a particularly bad day, we can take a tour of the icons in the back of the church. We name each icon and given them a kiss.
• We can “read” the service books (i.e. look at the pictures).
• We can join in with an “AMEN” or by making a cross.

These moments may only account for 5 minutes of a whole service (more on a bad day) but a lot of learning happens then. All of which is enforced at home with prayers and books. Julie knows the name of some saints and can recognize them in icons (Jesus, Mary, Joseph, St. Julianna). She is beginning to learn some prayers – she can cross herself (not well but we’re getting there) and join in with an unprompted “Amen” or a “Fa-der, Son, Ho-wee Spiwit”. And since we sing at home (a LOT) she also knows some church music by heart. She can sing all of “Christ is risen from the dead” and “Thy resurrection oh Christ” as well as “Jesus loves me”, “Zacheaus”, “Away in a manger”, and others. We often find her singing or reciting prayers as she plays by herself at home.

Does she understand all the words? Or the greater theological implications of the hymnography? Or any of it, really? Not in the least! But it’s still very, very valuable because she is learning the vocabulary that will be the building blocks of that knowledge. Much more importantly, she is learning to participate (with joy) in the life of the church. She is learning who these people are and how they are a part of her life. Many saints did not have the “book-learning” we take for granted in the modern church but every single one of them had these building blocks – they loved God and His church.

It’s not easy, though. I rarely get to attend to the whole service. Even when Julie is occupying herself (usually “reading” a service book or such) I am distracted keeping an eye on her. She has bad days and even bad months. Toddlers test limits, find out if the rules still apply. (Moving to a new parish gave us a really rough couple of months.) We do let her bring her favoritest stuffed animal to church. Some days she reads to him from the service book or makes him cross himself and say prayers – other days she swings him around by the arm, hitting people. And we are just now seeing these benefits. In the long run it pays off, though – some now and a LOT later on.

Let’s not even discuss the garden or the bag of beets in the fridge waiting to be pickled and canned.

This realization was a much-needed dose of perspective this week. When the work piles up and I start feeling overwhelmed I get frustrated with myself. “Why can’t I get this done?” I ask myself.  Every once in awhile I need the reminder that what we’re doing isn’t easy so I can cut myself some slack about the backlog before hunkering back down to work. Speaking of which…..

There are practical as well as psychological reasons that community is important. On the practical side, having like-minded folks nearby means that you can share equipment, barter for goods and services, and learn skills from those neighbors. We borrow tools, brewing equipment, and gardening supplies back and forth constantly. We’ve helped each other with countless projects and tasks. (How many people have a neighbor who pops over to borrow a cup of peat moss?) As we get further into homesteading these benefits will be even greater. We can split the cost of a tractor, barter half a cow for half a pig, help each other build our homes, and tend each others’ livestock while we’re on vacation.

Plus, with a community of like-minded folks we don’t have to specialize in every skill to achieve a self-sufficient(ish) lifestyle.  If soap-making isn’t our cup of tea, that’s ok because we can trade some homemade cheese with the couple down the way.

There are also serious psychological benefits. There are going to be rough days. Having someone to commiserate with and laugh about your troubles can mean the difference between moving on and moving out.  And when you have to knuckle down and do the tough work, it goes so much easier when you have friends to share the grunt work.

Although people certain can, and do, successfully homestead without community most of us fare much better and are much happier with it. Next time I’ll discuss the importance of community more broadly.

You will need:

• A trash can with a lid (used is fine)
• Water, biodegradable soap, and washcloth or scrub brush
• Drill with 1/4 drill bit that is suitable to the material of your trash can

First, if your trash can is used, give it a good scrub. Biodegradable soap means that you don’t have to worry about any residue. We used our vegetable-based dish soap. This trash can was left by the previous tenants and, even though we hadn’t used it, I thought a really good scrub was probably for the best. Julie had a lot of fun washing the lid (after I gave it a quick once-over to get off the ick). So much fun that I had trouble prying her off of it.

Second, drill holes. LOTS of holes. Compost needs air and it needs to be moist, but not wet. Having lots of holes helps with both problems. Make sure to get some holes down towards the bottom just in case some really soupy vegetables wind up in there or the lid blows off during a monsoon. Julie’s self-ascribed job was to turn the trash can so I could drill more holes.

She liked this job.

REALLY liked this job.

A lot.

Third, start making compost.  Next week I’ll have a post detailing our (lazy) method of making compost.

The move back to Kentucky was prompted by the realization that we want to settle down closer to friends and family, neither of which was going to happen in Illinois. Now that we’re back in the Bluegrass state we’ve, ever so slowly, started looking at land. Sometime in the next couple of weeks (in addition to contract deadlines and Holy Week) we’re going to squeeze in a trip to look at some promising pieces of land and talk to folks in the area who have successfully done green building projects. It’s a long way from being settled on our own piece of land but it’s exciting to be started.

This bed on the north west side of the house was a little less than inspiring. So we’re converting the large front bed to a cottage garden style bed with a mixtures of existing flowering perennial trees and shrubs, herbs, flowers, and vegetables.

A month ago we ripped out the shredded, ineffective plastic ground cover and extended the bed out slightly by turning the sod over.

Earlier this week we finally finished prepping the bed. I pulled out weeds and broke up the soil. The decomposing, overturned grass made for some very happy worms. Julie and I had a long discussion about the various qualities of worms: they’re brown, they squirm, and they’re nice because they make our plants big and strong.

Julie helped with some with the weeding and soil breaking but mostly spent the time wheeling tractors of dirt around.

A thorough weeding and soil loosening got it looking a lot better.

Nearly a cubic foot of composted horse manure later and we have the beginnings of a very respectable cottage garden. Some light clean up is in order but otherwise we’ll be ready to plant if the weather ever decides to stay warm.

After ripping seams (and ripping seams and ripping seams), I made a new template and cut the pieces down to size.

Some more sewing, and I have something respectable looking. Now I just have to muster up the motivation to make covers for the pillows I was trying to make covers for in the first place.

I told myself I would put away the knitting needles and move on to other endeavors but as it turns out you can’t tuck a sewing machine under your elbow and sew while following your toddler around the house and asking them “Do you need to potty?” every three seconds.

Ahem.

So this is my potty-training-project. A little surprise for my big girl (who is thankfully almost, nearly, kind-of potty trained now).

When I actually finish the project, I’ll post about it. In the meantime just a few words of wisdom: if you give a toddler a choice of yarns they will inevitably choose the yarn that is scented. (You, being a sane person, wouldn’t even think to look for such a thing because who scents yarn?) Then you will find yourself endlessly sniffling, scratching your nose, and wondering just how bad the resultant knot of yarn would be if you just tossed the whole ball in the washer.

Recently, when telling a friend about cloth diapering she said (a little incredulous) “So you stuck it out?” Yes, we did. For all that it can seem daunting, it’s really not that bad. And if you do run into glitches there are plenty of good websites with information to help you out.

Cloth diapering is old hat to us now which, of course, means it’s time for the next step – potty training. Prayers and well-wishes appreciated.