Making Stuff

I am a maker. I make lots of stuff.

I make breakfast.
Today it was oatmeal. I don’t like boring oatmeal, though. Usually I add some dried fruit, coconut, peanut butter, cinnamon, sliced apple, wheat germ or whatever else strikes my fancy. It’s my first act of love towards my family each day. I don’t know if they perceive “oatmeal = love” but their good health shows it.

I make lunch.
Today it was tomato soup and toast. Pity I didn’t have enough cheese on hand. My favorite lunch is tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Mmmmmmm….

I make my kids take a nap.
Yes, I’m a nap maker. And often a nap taker. Sleep is essential to a happy and healthy life. Children don’t always get enough sleep—especially when they spend the first two hours that they are in bed at night giggling and making a tent out of the blankets. My kids take naps. Even the older ones must have down time and sit quietly each afternoon. If not they fall asleep in their dinner bowl, as demonstrated by Captain.

I don't make them all sleep in a heap. They do that on their own.

I make dinner.
Dinner is not eaten out of a box, standing over the sink or in front of the TV. Dinner is eaten at the table, a candle lit, grace said together, conversation, and “Please pass the peas.” I make dinner everyday. It doesn’t come out of a box or the frozen section of the market. Dinner is a way to show my family that I want to end the day together, as one. Dinner deserves garnish and serving dishes and cloth napkins.

Poori, Curried Cauliflower and Rice

I make “good stuff.”
When my husband is unwinding at night he says, “Got anything good?” He is not asking for a sandwich or carrot sticks. He wants a piece of cake, some crème puffs, pie, brownies, rice pudding or something “good.” We end our day just him and me, watching something on TV or reading a book and eating something “good” and drinking tea. It’s our ritual.

I make up songs.
I sing to my family. It needn’t make any sense, either. “All my kids are made of sugar. All my kids are made of spice. I just want to hug and kiss them. They are very, very nice.” It makes the kids laugh. And so I sing on. “Your just as sweet and sugar and as good as pie! I think that I might cry if you left me!”

I make time.
Life is always busy. There is always something that needs doing rather than going to the park or reading one book more. There will always be chores that need doing, papers that needs filing, correspondence to answer. If I don’t make time, there won’t be time. So sometimes you have to just go for it….turn off the phone and play a board game. It won’t really matter in five years that I was caught up on my email. But, it will matter that I’ve played with my kids.

I make babies, sometimes.
I am one of those strange women that love being pregnant. I really do. I’ve made five babies and have enjoyed each of my pregnancies. It’s nice to never be alone. To carry a little bundle of warmth and love with me wherever I go. To feel that wee one wiggling and squirming and communicating with me, even from the inside. I love it.

I make my kids do chores.
I’m a mean Mama! Even the two year old has chores. I figure that I’m the manager of this house, not the maid. It’s not my job to do it all, but just to make sure that it gets done.

I make money.
Yep, I do! I’ve made $200 so far with ads on this blog. If you’ve clicked, I thank you! I teach childbirth classes one evening a week. I take a few doula clients a year. I sell Gana’s used books on the internet. The little extra money I make lets us have some fun. I try to save it for special occasions.

I make memories.
We don’t give our kids a lot of “stuff.” They don’t have all the latest toys or video games. But, we have given them lots of memories. We like to do things together—camping, biking, playing on the beach, riding the train, crafts and projects. Sometimes the memories are just plain silly. Attacking Daddy with water guns when he gets home from work or playing in the mud.

The Santa Ana Zoo, before Belgee was born.

I make messes.
Seriously. I might try to blame the mess on the children from time to time. But, don’t you believe it for a minute. Most of the mess is mine. And when I get inspired to create something or to accomplish a project there’s no stopping me. The rest of the house can go to pieces, but I have something cool or at least mildly amusing to show for it at the end of the day.

Christmas Baking with TiTi!

I make granola.
Yes. I make my own granola. Does that make me a hippy? Maybe. Do I care? No.

Of all the things I make it’s nice to know that really I’m only making one thing. I’m making a home.

I am a homemaker. A missionary from Norway to Mongolia once told me that she loved that word. Homemaker. She said she didn’t have anything equivalent in her language. “What a lovely thing, to make a home” she said. I think she’s right. It’s a title I wear with pride and pleasure.

I am a full-time homemaker.