We were driving to the church this morning; I was sitting at the back, next to my daughter, chatting to her. She took a little vaseline lip balm tin out of her pocket. She put some on her lips and then asked me if I would like some for myself. She handed me the round tin, I took some of it and I put it on my lips saying that I love the vanilla smell. She was thrilled, her eyes sparked, she grasped my hand satisfied and said: ‘I love you, Mummy. I love you so much’. She was thrilled.
Often, this is exactly what our children want us to do: to acknowledge the worth of what they like, to give to us what they love and to see that we are capable of appreciating it too. This creates the union, communion and connection.
Have you recently had a similar experience?
Jechaliśmy dziś rano do kościoła; siedziałam z tyłu, obok mojej córki, rozmawiając z nią. Wyjęła z kieszeni puszeczkę z wazeliną do ust. Nałożyła trochę na swoje usta, a potem zapytała mnie, czy chciałabym trochę dla siebie. Podała mi okrągłą puszkę, wzięłam trochę jej balsamu do ust i nałożyłam, mówiąc, że uwielbiam zapach wanilii. Była zachwycona, jej oczy błyszczały, chwyciła moją dłoń zadowolona i powiedziała: „Kocham cię, mamusiu. Tak bardzo cię kocham”. Była wręcz zachwycona.
Często właśnie tego chcą od nas nasze dzieci: abyśmy uznali wartość tego, co one lubią; one dają nam to, co kochają byśmy pokazali, że my również potrafimy to docenić. To tworzy jedność, komunię i połączenie.
I’ve got an impression that last winter my mother was making this soup every three days for our children. Her grandson was competing with himself to see how many bowls he could comfortably consume. We all looked at him in disbelief, wondering where that quantity was disappearing. Surely, he was not spoon-feeding the dogs under the table. He loved it. Everyone else did too. They gladly returned from the cold and sat in front of a steaming bowl and each bowl came with a piece of popular Polish bread showered with flax seeds. Yummy.
Do you cook? What do you like making?
The knitted cloth that the soup is placed on is actually a scarf made by my aunt. It is so warm, you won’t believe. Shoulders wear it gracefully indebted to my aunt for many hours of her work. I was comforted by the softness of the scarf. The warmth of the soup also brought reassurance. I am grateful that my mum and aunt keep their skills fresh and that they continuously make an effort. It is mesmerizing to see how things emerge in other people’s hands. As if from nowhere…
Creativity blossomed in our house over the weekend. Icy weather gave us many opportunities to refresh and revive our spirit and gave us hope for a good and creative year. I hope you are feeling equally energized.
The photos of the soup were taken last year in Poland. The photo of my children was taken in Melbourne (UK) at Woodhouse Farm. Many thanks to Brian Woodhouse for allowing me to take photos on his farm and fields.
Below is a photo from my parents’ place in Poland.
We are all at home today doing jigsaw puzzles, listening to this relaxing music for children and experiencing some magic on the screen. It gives the room a warming atmosphere and it gives a festive touch to the living room bringing the fairy tale land inside the house.
‘Look mum, what I’ve done?’ our 5 year old said feeling a bit better today albeit still quite feverish. She took clear tape and wrapped it around a piece of card. ‘Look mum, I have a wiping board now.’ We practise writing and drawing on it and it was brilliant. Yesterday, she took a hoop and danced with it around the room to piano music, fluey but determined that ‘bed rotting’ is not what she would succumb to. Have you heard about it? In essence, it involves idling around in bed with food around watching videos, flicking through the phone or watching TV series and it is an increasingly common form of rest. Not necessarily the most helpful to our nervous systems long-term but it’s easy to understand the allure of it. (You can read about it here. The article is in Polish but Google can translate it for you.) The term itself, however, seems to me like a good blocker to excessive indolence. I hope our 12 year-old will embrace it in his lingo.
There is a pink silicone pig walking on our floor right now.
‘What do you like most?’ I asked my 5 year old.
‘Mum and pizza’.
‘And if you had to give up Mum or pizza, what would you give up?’
‘Play. I would give up play.’
Children are smart. Their instincts rule. They rely on their parents for survival and they rely on food for survival and when faced with a dilemma, they will most likely give up what brings them joy. And I guess that is why there is a pink silicone pig walking on our floor right now.
It’s funny. It’s loud and it has the biggest and the most loving eyes, I’ve ever seen. It makes us laugh a lot by being a keynote speaker at the dining table designed to revitalize our instinctual goofiness. We become as silly as it is by imitating, of course. You just cannot help it, can you? The pig honks, you honk. And so it goes.
What made you laugh this Christmas?
I wouldn’t have got the pig years ago when I was doing the Nothing New project or years later, but now I give in, perhaps too often, in order to remain sane and find internal balance between different societal requirements, personal values and competing ideologies that surround our thinking. I justify the not-so-environmental purchasing choices by ‘wanting to get to know my daughter’ but perhaps it is not the best justification or rationalization to have. Surely, there are hundreds of other ways to get to know her. But maybe it is also the way?
Have you ever watched The Fiddler on the Roof? The main character, Tevye the Dairyman is often torn between choices and decisions to make, mostly whether to allow each of his daughters to marry who they want or not. His internal dialogues are characterised by the phrase ‘but then on the other hand…’ He keeps on weighing the pros and cons of every choice and decision giving in either to the pressures of the outside world or his own feelings about the situation. He calculates. The rights, the wrongs, the benefits and potential losses. Don’t we feel similar today with all the array of choices that we have to make about our ways forward in life and our children’s wellbeing. We want to make a difference in their lives and for their futures and then we are like Tevye… ‘But then on the other hand…’
But then… the reminders or signposting of what is right for them come from our own children.
‘What should I do with my wedding shoes?’ ‘Should we give them away?’
‘Mum, could you keep it for me and then my daughter can have them after me. This would be nice.’
Children don’t always want to discard what we have. They don’t always want to have new things. They often appreciate things and what they appreciate they want to last.
I suspect you’ve been extremely busy this week, getting yourself ready for Christmas and making plans for days to come, completing tasks that had to be done.
Life has been hectic for us too in the last few days and Tuesday disappeared under specialist appointments, quick drop-ins to friends, school matters and joint learning.
I have, therefore, only a humble gratitude point to share this week. I am thankful today for good moments that we spontaneously initiate.
The photo below was taken at a farm nearby. I will forever remember my son cheekily running after a pheasant that proudly strolled around the field and my frustration that I couldn’t stop him (my son, not the pheasant). Young, energetic, stubborn. As most of them are at that age, I think.
The photo above was taken during a solo walk around our local woodland, Stanhope Woods, near Trent and Mersey Canal, Stenson, Derbyshire. I thought that I’ll share this with you before winter replaces autumnal decor with its frosty brush strokes.
So today I am thankful for spontaneous ventures that turn into memories captured and revived in photographs.
I know that there is a handful of people here who like when I talk photography so I thought I will share with you how I resolved the problem of set ups and children in a small kitchen. I wish it occurred to me earlier but if it wasn’t for the frozen shoulders and my obtuse refusal to give up on taking photos, I would have not come up with it. If you have ever suffered from this condition, you know the pain and you know the catastrophising whisperer who is attached to it, i.e ‘I would never be able to do landscape photography. There is no way I can lift up my gear’ or ‘I would never be able to lift my elbows above my chest and get a decent photo.’ Well, it so happens that we do not always need to lift the camera above our chest to take a decent photo and we do not need kitchen surfaces to take them either.
It is ironic to some extent that it took me two frozen shoulders to see that I was quite limited in my thinking about food photography and my ability to do it in our circumstances. Limiting beliefs are good to discover for oneself simply to stay clear of too. This is what I used to think:
I thought that my kitchen was too small to take the photos of what we cook.
Obviously, I was mistaken.
I used to think that I need to make the surfaces empty to photograph the food we cook.
I was in the wrong about that.
I used to think that I would not be able to protect my set ups from my children’s hands.
I laboured with a false belief.
I used to think that having two frozen shoulders would mean I would not be able to handle my heavy camera.
I placed more trust in myself and my slow recovery.
I used to think that I must use the available daylight when I cook to have decent food photographs.
Where has this conviction originated?
To make your dream come true of taking photos of the food that you cook while you handle the kids and perhaps the partner that loves his cooking too, empty one drawer in your kitchen. If your situation is similar to mine, health-wise, use the lowest drawer available so that you can point the camera downwards. Create a set up in there. Choose your surfaces, clothes, trays, etc. Keep it all there and when the food is ready, plate it and rearrange it in your drawer to suit your taste. Take a photo.
I have chosen the lowest drawer in a shaded area in my kitchen where not much light gets in. I wanted to use a ring light to have full control over the brightness and the direction of light. I was bending the ring sideways to create artificial shadows for some photos. For brighter compositions I photographed directly from the top just through the ring light. Sometimes I squatted too and took photos from the side while the light was above the food.
In order to hold food in one place I use a wreath ring and I cover the wreath with a cloth. It is also useful for holding soup bowls or other dishes.
Happy with the results.
One step further to creative living with what we’ve got.
Postcards Without Stamps 