Francophilter

A couple of packages came in the mail today: a book and a soccer jersey for my two oldest boys. I'm stockpiling little treasures with each paycheck, getting ready for the big smooshfest* that is Christmas.

*Smooshfest is a word I just now made up which can be applied to pretty much any and all celebrating we do as a family.  It is appropriate because whatever revelry we're getting up to is usually a crazy quilt of customs, some of which are rooted in shared observance or family traditions, some of which are completely invented by us, to be abandoned or changed at whim.

Case in point: when I asked George and Mae what we should make sure to include in our Thanksgiving day celebration, they suggested muffins and fireworks, respectively. Sounds fun! We'll see.

Anyway, back to today's mail, which arrived around the time the "Why didn't all the profile pics change when X tragedy occurred?" talk started on Facebook today; a reaction to the global reaction to a massive, heart-breaking terrorist attack in Paris, France, last night. Of course, that conversation needs to happen. But does a big bustle of clicktivism retroactively diminish the humanity of others who have suffered something similar? 

Why do people seem to care more about some things than others? I mean, we can say we care, but when do we really hurt along with someone else? Easy, when it feels closer to us. 

The whole world is welcome in this house, as long as you don't track in too much mud. We love art, food, ideas, and sports from all the places. Still, as my son and I watched the terrible news yesterday, the pain we felt was closer to our hearts because it was happening to Paris. 

There is nothing accidentally occidental about our fondness for Paris, that's exactly it. For my son, Paris is home of the team of his favorite futboler, Zlatan Ibrahimovic, a Swedish player and son of a Bosnian Muslim and Croatian Catholic. Quite a smooshfest, no? For my oldest son, who has been baking baguettes, teaching himself French, and planning to travel there as soon as possible, this has to feel like someone just attacked the place of his dreams. 

Glittering, gritty, rich, and poor, Paris has been a magnet, attracting artistic souls from all over the world for centuries. Thanks to its daring diversity, it will always be a place where there are no easy answers, and never will be, and how beautiful that is. So many people from everywhere else, living together, and today, grieving together. Nous vous aimons. 

Rolling With It: To An Extent

One thing that I love about traveling is you almost never know what is going to happen next. One thing I find challenging about traveling is you almost never know what is going to happen next. It's not all sunshine and fruits here in Colombia.

Yes, it is. 

Usually, it's sunshine and fruits and widely available wi-fi. At least I do my best to make sure it is, wherever I'm staying in this lovely land. Is that because I want to share six million photos of brightly colored houses and trucksful of dangling fruit on a daily basis?

No, that's just a fringe benefit. I need a sweet solid internet connection because I have to, must, feel absolutely forlorn if I don't, talk to my family every night before bed (for me. It's before dinner for them.)

There have been very few nights over the last seven weeks where I intentionally skipped a call. I have this whole thing, where I talk to my best friend in the world, Geza, whatever little people are hanging around the house, say some iloveyous and goodbyes, end the call, quit Skype, and cross the day off of my calendar, with a little feeling of relief that I'm one day closer to being back with them.While it is true that I am having one of the times of my life, it's no coincidence that I made the decision to travel in this modern era I like to call The Jetson Years.

I don't think I could have gone so far from those I love most, for so long, back in The Flintstone Years (aka: all the years before I turned 25)

Come, Climb Molehill Mountain With Me:

Having done a fair amount of work during the first part of my trip, the plan now is to check out something cultural. Last year, I had the privilege of attending the Festival Folclórico en Ibague.

This year, I made arrangements to visit Santa Elena's Feria de las Flores, in the mountains to the west of Medellin. I kissed my host family good by and traveled many miles to a room in a country house I had booked.

It was rustic,

peaceful

rural

...and the internet was down. It had been down for a week, and fellow farmmates were burning up all of their cell minutes waiting on an automated repair line that kept auto-promising repairmen would come, and guess what? They never came. I managed a couple of messages from the public library's free wifi, to let interested parties know I had arrived safely, then returned to the farm and waited all day, and then another whole day, for the elusive figure who was fabled to make internets where there were none.

I love you Facebook, but I could live without. I love you blog, even though you're called a "blog," but I could live without you. I love you internet, but I must be able to live without you.  When I feel that whiny Gollomesque attachment to <fill in the blank here> (suggestions: internet, ice cream, laziness, hip hop dancing movies) it feels like something I have work on.

Sometimes, you have to recognize that you must be the outside force acting on your own inert self and learn to love the feeling of challenging your limitations.

So somewhere around 24 hours in, I remembered that traveling is a regular plate of  surprises with a warm roll (with it) on the side. I decided to enjoy the situation. After all, I got to saw this wood,

 and hang out with this dog,

on this porch, 

and later by this fire,

 all while reading this book. 

If I had been able to share road pictures and stream episodes of Derek on Netflix, I would have read a lot less of a story I should have read many years ago.

The last line on the page, where Jim says he's rich because, by running away from slavery, he owns himself, is just another example of the fact that Mark Twain knows what's up. I want to see this book turned into a movie, and not one where anyone on the cover is smiling.

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, while funny at times, does not flinch in its depiction of the stark realities of slavery, domestic abuse, alcoholism, poverty, and societal hypocrisy. Please see book cover photo, squinty grimacing or get out. 

What with all the drowsy dogs, warmth, and wonderful writing, it was one of the nicer evenings I've had in my whole life; all brought to me by Undesirable Circumstances.

Before turning in for the night, I stood on the porch and watched the moon rise. Gazing at inky clouds turning pearly as they moved across its resplendent face, I felt that peaceful resignation that comes when you realize the internet guy is never going to arrive. That's when I faced facts: Unless I did something drastic, I was about to spend many more nights in the same peaceful, edifying, old fashion, without talking to these faces even once.

So, I booked a room in the closest cheapest hotel I could find and got the heck out of there today.
The End.

 I love you, family. 

Successfully Screwing Up

Whew! What's "Whew!" in Spanish, I wonder? Juih?

Anyway, I love staying busy as much as the next traveling homeschooling working mom of four, but sometimes, when you've finished putting on a spontaneous photography exhibit for underprivileged children in South America, you've gotta stop and breathe for a second. Look back, take stock, and write a blog post.

That's right, thanks to the marvelous photography of the children living at the Fundación Niños de los Andes, and the support of the staff there, we were invited to show the kids' work at the Centro Colombo Americano, a prestigious cultural center that has sites in every city in Colombia. The exhibit will be up for another week and half, but we had our big inauguration three nights ago, in which there were lots of art patrons, lots of kids, lots of friends, and even a TV news crew!

Como se dice, "I'm totally not ready for my close up."

And I did it all by myself, without messing up once.

HA! or JA! Right. First, we have established that I did almost none of it by myself. Now, let's get to the error-riddled road that got me here, and gets me anywhere I go.

First, a flashback, if you will. About one year ago, I was here, in beautiful Colombia, at the Fundación Niños de los Andes school, teaching English to about twenty of the aforementioned Niños. I read a sentence aloud and asked a student to repeat it. She did, but made a mistake in her pronunciation. When I provided a gentle friendly correction, the rest of the class laughed at her.
I cut that nonsense out right away, saying,

"Listen! Do not laugh at somebody who makes a mistake because that person is doing something great. She is learning. Look at me, here, making mistakes with almost every sentence, but nevertheless I am here, working and getting better. That is how new things are learned."

 Although it probably sounded something like,

"HEAR! No to laugh for anyone who is mistaking. She are making pretty! Her am learning! Watch at me, I mistake all but anyway here I do gooder. Those is things new can knowing!"

Well, the kids all looked at me for a second. I didn't know if I had just blown their minds with a profound truth, or if they were all trying to figure out what the heck I said, but they stopped laughing at any rate, so I was happy and continued the English lesson.

Back to Thursday night. It was the culmination of many weeks of planning, hard work, and flat-out flubs. Shall I list them for you? Well, some of them anyway.

1. I left the USA with six cameras and a healthy supply of rechargeable batteries for the cameras that didn't have their own. Those rechargeable batteries never worked when I needed them. I charged them for days in the house where I am staying, and nada. Buying regular batteries as a stop gap measure got expensive, but that's how I managed. Somewhere close to the end of the photography aspect of the project, someone asked me, "Why didn't you go to Home Center and buy rechargeables?" Duh, I didn't know you had them here. Whoops.

2.  From the beginning, we worked with groups of five kids at a time, giving each child one hour of photographic phreedom to roam the grounds of their foundation and take pictures. In order to label the files on my computer, and keep straight who took what photos, I asked the kids to write their names in a little notebook I kept with me, never checking to make sure that they had written a complete name. When I organized the photos into folders on my computer, I was stuck, sometimes with just a barely legible first name.

In the end, when we were surprised by the news that we would be putting on a show, I had to sort back through all those names, and all those kids, sometimes with four Danielas standing in a row, asking, "Who took this photo?"

3. I never figured out how to program ^this^ camera to stop showing a date, so all of the photos taken with it had to be cropped.

This doesn't even scratch the surface, especially when you consider all the bungled Spanish I had to use at every turn. So many things I would do differently, if I had the chance.

Here's the thing I learned from all of this. You can dream big, you can plan a lot, you can have the best help, but if you can't breathe and work through an error, you will get stuck.

A couple of weeks ago, as I served coffee and snacks to a team of people helping me whittle 1000 photos down to a showable 100, they asked me, "This photo? Who took it? It just says Camila." I admit to sweating a bit in that moment, wishing I could go back and do it over again, hating myself for being too disorganized and unprepared, feeling a small but strong wave of self-doubt. Instead of looking for a hidey-hole and a soft blanket, I just said, "I mistaked. Wish I can do again, but we must encounter the child after we decide the names." And you know what? They just nodded, said okay, and went on. End of the world, it wasn't.

Who on this earth has attempted to learn a new language and started off fluent? Who on this earth has picked up a musical instrument for the first time and played it like a virtuoso? Who on this earth has tried to push themselves from their present reality to a future dream without having to accept his or her limitations?

Acceptance doesn't mean complacency. Pushing oneself to get better is a fine way to spend a lifetime. Acceptance means not spending a great deal of time and energy on self-punishment, or even worse, self-defeating fear that could stop you from trying in the first place. Taking on something new usually means not being that great at it, for a while at least.

photo by Kellen Ramirez

It takes a special mix of humility and confidence to remember that the road to someplace outside of you current abilities is a bumpy one, paved with reminders of your short-comings; but that it's well worth traveling.

Love is God

If you've ever visited this, my crusty little spot of the internet before, you may have noticed the "Secular Homeschool" button, down and to the left a bit. We, as a family, are part of a network of people who have taken on home education, without belief in a religion, and without use of religious homeschooling materials. This sort of thing is not easy to come by in the world of home education, so participating sometimes feels like slashing a path into the unknown with a big machete, learning and sharing new definitions for old words.

Let's start with the word, "secular." While it's true that I am now living a secular life, as a religionless person, I see the S word as saying nothing in particular about who we are as a family.  For us, "secular" does not mean anti-religion, and it certainly doesn't mean living a life devoid of faith, humility, and love. Truth be told, we have a lot in common with some of the believers in our lives. Don't you just love having things in common? I sure do.

Faith: If you've ever stooped over some cold dirt on a wet early spring morning to plant chard seeds, you know what faith is. If you've ever worked hard to earn money for a big goal, like a tablet or overseas trip, you are acting like that day will come when you will have it. Does this mean an unwavering belief that things will always go as planned? Certainly not. As a matter of fact, it means continuing forth, into the unknown, with a vague notion that you can handle the unpredictable inevitabilities along the way.

So began the big photography project: with a simple choice I made at the Fundación Niños de los Andes, near the end of  last year's stay, here in gorgeous Manizales, Colombia.

That's right, I'm back in la zona tropical!

Last June, a girl living in the Fundación asked to borrow my camera. I thought for a second, remembering that I had been advised not to give or loan the kids anything. I let it go into her small hands: an act of faith, for which I was rewarded with a camera full of special photos. The talent and photographic instincts displayed in the photos taken by the girl inspired me. I thought of this world, full of fancy things nobody uses anymore, and had an idea. After a year of asking my friends online and in real life to give me their unused digital cameras, I boarded a Colombia-bound plane three and a half weeks ago with six cameras, and a very fuzzy idea of what to do with them. I dunno, take them to the foundation? Get permission to loan them to kids? See what happens next?

With the help of a trusty friend here in Colombia, I spent about thirty hours with the kids at the foundation, over the course of three weeks, taking them aside in groups of five, explaining the basics of photography, and giving a pep talk to the effect of, "You are all artists. Artists use their unique perspective to share their story with the world."

I may not ascribe to any of the world's current religions, but I believe strongly in the magic that comes of kids being creative. Acting on that, my only hope was for some young people to enjoy the delicious discovery of self-expression. And take some neat pictures.

Humility: As news of this project spread, an incredible, unforeseeable opportunity emerged. We were granted use of space at a nationally-respected cultural institution to put on a show of the kids' best work. Is there a word for thrilled mixed with daunted? Because that's what I felt. Suddenly I felt the limitations of my abilities. Sure, I'm the big gringa with a bunch of cameras and horrible Spanish, but enough bragging. I had never put on a show in my own country, in my own language. What made me think I could pull it off here?

I could never have expected what would happen next. In came offers of help, in areas where I would need it most. How does one print and mount photos, turn in all pertinent paperwork, and publicize everything professionally - all in a language that one is still learning? Well, turns out, I don't have to know, because this idea has been a magnet, attracting loving souls who have emerged with their talents and abilities to help me accomplish all of the aspects of a real live art show.

Love: This is my fuel, and my guiding force. It's how I know I'm on the right track.Where there is love, something special is happening. After each photography session, when the children returned their cameras, we hugged and I thanked them for participating. The light in their eyes is something I recognized. It is the look of a child who felt and gave love.

Whether it was someone donating a camera or money, someone helping me manage the kids, an acquaintance calling contacts in important places, or complete strangers personally giving their energy to a project headed by a giant foreigner they had never met; as each person has come to this team, intent on presenting the kids' vision to the wider world, the love we feel for each other, for the children, for the future, for art, is what we have in common.

Tiptoe, Through the Lego

 Spring is here! Our world is bright and colorful, as flowers bloom everywhere in our garden. This is always an especially exciting time of year, because the kids know our Lego plant faithfully blooms on the first day of April.

What's that, you say? You buy your Lego blocks at the store, or from strangers on the internet? Well, in this family, we believe in self-reliance when it comes to all things, including toys. You might have guessed we'd figure out a way to grow our own.

But do not despair, dear reader! Because we also believe very strongly in sharing information with others, so that we can all fight the man and live off the grid and stop wearing shoes!

All you need are a few Lego "seeds," some soil, a tool to dig it with (egg spoons are perfect, btw, yw) and a container. Any cup or pot will do. We use peat pots, because we feel it is so important to utilize biodegradable items, even when growing chunks of plastic.

You know, go green.

Don't forget to dampen the seeds and soil with a generous splash of whole milk. Nothing makes them sprout faster!

Thanks for reading, and best of luck trying this project at home. Be sure to check the BU YouTube channel for our Bionicle pruning and grafting videos!

The Muddy Kitchen: The Babymoon is Over

So, it's been a while since we really talked. What's new? 

Mmm hm, ooh. Well, good luck with that. 

Us? Oh we're just all growed up, 

that's all.

Our first baby is now the biggest person in the family. When did that happen? Wasn't it just yesterday that he was the dinky little dude who needed help standing up?

It's hard to believe that not so long ago, all four of our ever taller, always talkative, vastly capable, constantly eating kids were each once chunky, drooling, developing, constantly eating babies.  And, while I am so grateful for the years I spent caring for my kids when they were very young, I don't miss that time. Not even a little bit.

Here's a shocking admission: I don't get sad about my kids growing up. I have shed nary a tear about it over the years, not even a happy one. Watching them each become who they are, and helping them get through what comes next. keeps me too preoccupied to lament the bygone baby. I know that having three more babies after the first one gave us lots of cuddling opportunities, in spite of all the growing up going on around here; and that moms who sigh wistfully at baby photos are excited about their kids' futures too.This is different. I was nostalgia-challenged before motherhood, since being told as a kid, "I'm going to put a brick on your head to keep you from growing up so quickly!".

 I stare like Data when people declare that someone is growing up too fast.

What do you consider a more appropriate rate of maturation? 

Nothing against babies, but I'm pretty sure not enough good has been said about teenagers.They are majestic creatures, I tell you!  In the three and half years since he entered teendom, my firstborn has not only made meals and done housework, he's come up with some of the funniest jokes I've laughed at in my whole life.

He's inventing his own bread recipe and teaching himself French. 

He's tall enough to reach things I can't!

He also wears this jacket, and I have no idea what it means, but all the cool kids get it. And since he is enormous now, if I want to, I can borrow it and pretend to be cool too. #perks

Another marvel he performs is holding down the fort while I go to work, travel, and make food for my friend: a local lady who just had her own little tiny baby son.

Babymoon Breakfast Cookies

I call them that because I remember my first morning, back in my house, with a brand new baby and a husband out the door for work. I was elated, tired, wired, and finally hungry. No problem, Henry was sleeping. I could make myself a quick....oops, Henry's not sleeping anymore. And so, I rifled through the cupboards, with a big baby boy in the crook of one arm, searching for my first non-hospital meal as a mother.

It was a granola bar, that I got to by savaging the side of a cardboard box and stretch-shredding the wrapper with my teeth. Actually, it was about five granola bars. I remember thinking, "I am going to have to plan this better." as toasted oat crumbs dropped into the ear of my little nursling.

Don't go thinking I actually did figure it out though, not when it would have helped me. Thanks to being a noob, discovering the joys of newborn reflux, and the blur of utter sleep deprivation, I'm pretty sure I spent about four weeks subsisting solely on peanut butter I licked off of my hands, and crumbs from the area of counter top around my toaster. 

Many years later, between babies of my own, I brought dinner for a friend who had just given birth. Included in the big paper bag of foil-wrapped packages was a batch of something like the top of a muffin, baked like a cookie. When I talked to her later, she raved about them and asked for more. They're a real meal, that you can hold in one hand. Not unlike a granola bar, but with simpler ingredients, and a little beefier.

Ingredients:
Wet
2 cups dried dates (look at the photos below and instructions on how to prepare them.)
2 cups chopped and toasted nuts (any kind you like, a blend works well)
2 carrots, grated finely
2 cups dried apples, chopped coarsely
3 eggs
1 cup apple sauce
1/2 c. brown sugar

Dry
1/2 cup ground flax seed
1 T. cinnamon
1 t.  ginger (Minced fresh is best, but ground works too.)
1/4 t. each, ground nutmeg and cloves
1 1/2 c. flour
1 T baking powder
1 cup oats

Splash o' milk

Date Base:
When I'm baking something a that I want to have reduced/ no butter or sugar, I start with dried dates.

I cover them in water, bring them to a boil, and then remove from heat. About thirty minutes later, when they're re-hydrated, I run them through my food mill. 

It resembles pudding at this stage; a highly useful, sweet base that I have used in a many a sugar and dairy-free recipe, over the years.

Back to the Breakfast Cookies:

The wet stuff gets mixed together, the dry stuff gets mixed together, then both groups get mixed together and a splash o' milk helps you achieve the perfect consistency for scooping spoonfuls onto a baking sheet and baking at 350 for about twenty minutes.

You can switch up the ingredients, and might need to, considering some of these ingredients can be potential allergens for mom and baby. What is most important is that they contain copious quantities of protein and fiber. Protein makes a lady feel better fed, and most new moms really need fiber, That's all I'm saying about that.

These things I've learned over years of motherhood can actually do somebody else some good, thanks to this guy.

Because he is willing and able to look after his little siblings from time to time, I am able to steal away, to the hushed home of a newborn baby, and deliver these cookies to someone who is just starting her journey. Hopefully, she is better fed than those of us (me) who came before her.

Happy Birthday to You, and You, and You

We have so much to say, but are a little busy partying down these days. Half of our gaggle of a family has a birthday in the span of about five late winter weeks. The merry-making can get pretty intense.

Add to that that we have a new musical instrument in the house, and I'm getting no typing done at all! Les presento nuestro ukulele, El Opalito!

This little number was a birthday gift to myself (Happy Tax Refund!) and I have been rocking the candy shop, non-stop. Don't worry, as soon as I can get Mae to sing Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire with me, there will be videos.

Anyway, here's a little how-to morsel, to make due until I put down my abalone-inlaid ax and write something worth reading.

I'll be strumming it tonight, as we celebrate the twelve-turning of Thomas. If you are a fellow ukulele enthusiast, play along! The strings, from left to right are G, C, E, and A. The chart above tells you where to hold down each string when strumming.