Calm

We've come a long way on this journey to creating a calm home. Where we value space and time over stuff and being busy.

But it's an ongoing job. It's become a daily habit, in fact. Every day, something leaves this house. Usually more than one thing finds a new home.

There's no finish line, no "aha! we're done" moment. It's addictive though. These days, I fantasise about clearer spaces and a clearer mind. About getting rid of as much as possible. About - finally - properly dealing with our storage cupboards and garage.

With children, especially, there is stuff. So much stuff. I have no idea where it comes from; I can only assume it tiptoes in - under a cloak of darkness, a veil of silence - because I know we didn't buy it!

Despite stripping the house of all the boys' toys (that's a post for another day!), today, I look around and can't help but feel there is still so far to go, so instead I'm going to celebrate our progress so far.

A simple long weekend

Last weekend was the Australia Day long weekend, and as we do each year, we had friends around.

 Tropical fruit, of course.

 An Australian bush inspired table setting - foraged natives, grevilleas and gum

A gum nut bursting into bloom. Fuchsia tendrils unfurling.

Pimms. British, but perfect for a garden party. 

And that's where it ends. I put my camera down and didn't pick it up again for the whole day. Instead, I just enjoyed it. 9 hours later, after a few more rounds of food, we were only just packing up for bed.

2014

So it's 2014 and it's already half way through January.

Time flies.

I read something recently that kind of stopped me in my tracks. I can't remember the exact phrasing but it was along the lines of; "You can't stop time, you can't go back in time, and you never know when your time is up, but you CAN create more time by choosing how you spend it."

How about that. So true. Sometimes I feel so rushed, hurried, harassed, stressed and overwhelmed - all because I believe I have too much to do and not enough time to do it. This year, I am not going to do as much. All those extra things that are not essential or necessary or enjoyable. The things that don't add value to my days or to my family. That will create more time. And I will consciously choose how to spend it - take control of my happiness, if you like.

I'm going to keep taking photos and keep learning more about how to take great ones. I can see how far I've come in 6 short months, and it's exciting to think about how much more I have to learn.

I'm starting with a personal trainer tomorrow because that's the only way I know to force myself to move.

And I've signed up to A Simple Year - 12 months of guided simplicity. I changed last year. Something flicked in my brain and I don't think the same way anymore. It's not as simple as not wanting as much stuff around me. I genuinely want for less. It's a subtle, but seismic, shift that has infiltrated my life is so many ways.

In 2013 I decided I wanted to focus on four things: getting better at taking photos; choosing happiness; practicing simplicity; and prioritising my health and well-being. It appears I'm not done with those yet.

Happy New Year. I hope your 2014 is breathtaking.

Can Christmas be simple?

Source

I hauled the tree out today, dusted off the decorations - and BAM, just like that, my clear, clean, serene home suddenly felt out.of.control.

I've always been quite restrained when it comes to Christmas decorating. I don't have loads of knick-knacks that are brought out just for the month of December. I don't change tea-towels or dinner services. I have only one tree, and I stick to a simple colour palette.

This year though, I'm challenging myself to pare it back even more: a simply decorated tree, a single dining table vignette, and twinkly lights (of course). That's all. It's enough.

I love this time of year, I do. I love the carols, the twinkling lights, the festive cheer. So that's what I'm focusing on. Gifts this year will be simple, home-made where possible (and practical), and I will do my best to choose quality over quantity, needs over wants, and experiences over things.

I want my boys to learn that the real magic of Christmas is in its spirit: the way people slow down, smile more, are more aware, practice charity, find joy in giving, and appreciate one another.

I think last year I started getting it right. I loved this simple table I set for our traditional Christmas Eve family get-together.

And I can't wait for tonight.  Decorating the tree is always so special for me. I put on some carols, pour a glass of champagne and adore every minute of it.

(I'm going early [we are a 1st of  December family usually], but if I don't do it tonight, it won't get done until the end of next week, and that would be a travesty.)

Less. And more.

It's over a month since the Great Declutter of 2013 and I'm very happy to report that I can't for the life of me remember what I sent packing.

The house is vastly easier to keep tidy. Vastly. I can't even describe how much easier it is. At the very worst, there are dishes to wash and put away, some random sofa cushions to replace, and on a very bad day, puzzles pieces and doonas to be put right.

I feel like I have more time. I don't know if I truly have more available minutes or hours now, or whether I feel less burdened by thingsthatneedtobedonerightnow, but either way, I'm not complaining. The laundry is even up-to-date... regularly.

Things have a home, and that's where they can be found. Without fail. I haven't had to buy yet-another-measuring-tape yet. Miraculously, most things can be found first time. "Where's the bloodymeasuringtape?" "Why, hanging on the hook whose sole purpose is to hang the measuring tape, of course!"

The benefits are undeniable, and, even better, they're contagious.

Last week (and again last night) I discovered Rocky in the playroom cleaning it to within an inch of its life. Toys - actually put away. He was so happy and so proud of himself (he'd also worked up such a sweat that he'd stripped off, such was his effort).

Even T is in on the act. We went to Sydney last weekend for a beautiful wedding, and when we arrived home on Sunday night we unpacked, took clothes to the laundry, hung things up, and put bags away. For us, that is HUGE. We have, in the past, been guilty of leaving bags semi-unpacked for weeks. Weeks!

Every day, I am still ridding our lives of things that are neither needed, cherished, or beautiful. It's an ongoing process, and I'm fine with that.

This knowledge that simpler is better has spread into other areas of my life as well, almost without me even realising it. A heightened level of consciousness, I suppose.

I haven't forgotten to use my reusable grocery bags in a month. I've started using re-useable produce bags. I'm in the process of farewelling plastic in favour of glass, and the boys are sipping from stainless steel water bottles. I'm refusing bags and packaging where possible, and I'm enjoying the challenge. Why, oh why, must a single cucumber be shrink-wrapped?

I don't even feel like shopping. Seriously. I've never been a big shopper, to be completely honest, but I have NO DESIRE to bring yet more unnecessary stuff into our house without full and complete contemplation and conscious decision making.

Does this mean I'm finally a grown-up?

A bench, some wallpaper and a space to create

Now that my house is almost free from visual clutter, creating a space for the boys to draw, craft, create, read, sit, play and enjoy - something that's been on my 'to do' list for a while - is at the top of the agenda.

Don't get me wrong; they're hardly hard done by - the whole house feels given over to them at times. But, as they get older, more able to self-direct activities and eventually have homework, I want them to have a space that's theirs. Where they can be responsible for its contents, where their creations can be displayed, and where we can cohabit that same space, while doing our own things.

We live in an old Queenslander with a modern downstairs extension, as so many have. It has two extra bedrooms, a study nook, a laundry, a bathroom, a double lock-up garage and the quintessential 'rumpus room'.

It's here that I want to create their space.

This is my inspiration:

I love the timber. I love the salute to old-school school via the chairs. I love the use of wallpaper. I love that it's compact. I love that the wall can become a gallery space for Hame and Roc's creations, for special photos, for memories.

Most of all, I love that when you break it down, it's actually a very simple space. A wall. A bench. A couple of chairs. Some memories. That's it. Fullness in simplicity. It's one of those images I can't stop looking at. I have had it pinned for ages, and I look at it every day. Recently, many times a day.

So, we're doing it (or, rather, I am. T probably doesn't mind one way or the other). I'm going to buy timber for the desk and stain it walnut. That bit is easy. The wallpaper decision, on the other hand, has been a bit, well, sticky. Fraught, even. I've found one that I love - adore - but the price is makes me wince. The wall is large, and the rolls are on the pricey side. The problem is that I just can't find anything else I like better for a better price.

This is it: Anna Spiro for Porter's Paints Rosey Posey Trellis in Ginger Jar Blue:

I just can't go past that blue. Part Delft, part ginger jar, all gorgeous.

Ah, decisions.

The road to less - part 4: the Great Declutter of 2013

Last week I took four days 'off' to purge this house. It was intense, exhausting, exhilarating, liberating, addictive, and confronting.

When I first wrote this list, I wasn't sure I'd get through it all in four days. But I did. And I feel satisfied.

Before last week, there wasn't a single square metre in the house that was calm, free from visual 'noise' and where I felt relaxed.

I was driven to create a more peaceful home. Somewhere clear and calm. Somewhere that didn't make me feel as though I couldn't possibly stop for a second, because there was just so much to do. I knew achieving this would fill me with satisfaction and pride and motivation to continue the journey. But in the spirit of keeping it real, what I didn't  expect to feel was ashamed and self-indulgent.

Ashamed because I can't actually understand how I ever fathomed it was ok to buy so many things that weren't needed for practicality or beauty (I will always desire to have things that make me happy just by looking at them). I just genuinely have no idea how so much unnecessary stuff accumulated. I felt appalled by the sheer volume of stuff I had to take to the dump (although I think they're called Refuse and Recycling Centres these days). Room after room, box after box, bag after bag of stuff that was neither useful, or beautiful, or meaningful.

The self-indulgence is simple. The fact that I am even talking about 'decluttering', 'simplifying', and 'living with less' is crazy. Millions of people have nowhere near enough, and I'm writing about how getting rid of stupid amounts of possessions is cleansing and calming. What a first world problem to have, huh. Sobering, really.

Regardless, there is still too much. But I am happy with progress to date. There are a few areas I haven't tackled yet, primarily because they're not mine. What should go and what should stay isn't my call to make.

A week on, the house is still clean. Surfaces are still clear. Things have homes. New habits are forming. I feel like I have space to breathe.

It's good.

Lines in our story

I read something recently that made my breath catch in my throat.

"Every place we've lived has carved its impression on us. 

And nearly everything we have writes a line of our story."

This whole decluttering / simplifying / slowing down experiment has had a profound impact on me.

I sometimes - morbidly - think about what is going to happen when we're not here anymore. Who is going to have the awful task of going through our stuff and deciding what has meaning and value, what to keep, what to send away? A horrible horrible task for anyone, that can only be made worse by having to sort through a lifetime of possessions that should never have been there in the first place.

But morbidity aside, I'm still on track with paring back. I think the most important thing is that mentally I'm on track. I don't want all this stuff around me. I am  happy to own less. It seems an enormous task, to approach a lifetime of stuf, and it is, but every day I'm removing things that are not needed, wanted, or loved.

The most profound part of this journey for me has been what is going on in my head. I'm owning less. But more importantly, I want less. This quiet whisper is stronger than my frenzied culling. By wanting less, the inflow of stuff has slowed down. Things still come in - I will never be a radical minimalist, nor do I want to be - but only with thought and conscious decision.

The boys turned four recently, and with that, of course, came queries from beloved family about what to buy them as gifts. I was nervous to admit out loud that they didn't need anything new, that we were trying to reduce our stuff, and that we wanted our kids to learn that more presents do not mean more love, that their happiness does absolutely not depend upon a mountain of accumulated stuff.

But you know what? Everyone got it.

The boys received truly thoughtful gifts. Things we'd happily have given them ourselves amidst this journey. An annual pass to the Science Centre, tickets to Underwater World, an amazing world globe, some dress up costumes, and a cubby house perfect for adventures and imagination, built by hand with love by daddy and Grandpa.

This week is an important one for me. I have taken a week of holiday with the sole purpose of decluttering and spring cleaning. It's the first time in my life I have ever done something like this. Taking holidays to clean? Am I mad? Probably.

Collecting memories. Curating possessions. Cherishing only that which has value. I will probably be repeating this  like a crazed woman by Friday.

Laundry love

Like most mums, I suspect, I spend a decent amount of time in the laundry. I do at least a couple of loads per day, and quite enjoy hanging it out. I love seeing a full line of washing flapping in the breeze. I adore the smell of sunshine dried clothes.

Bringing it in, folding it up, and putting it away - well, that's another matter entirely.

Our laundry is downstairs, inside, next to the bathroom. It's more of a laundry nook, I suppose. It doesn't have its own room, a door, or anything to hide its utilitarianism from view. It's also pretty messy, most of the time. It has one shelf, that's too high for me to reach, so stuff doesn't get stored there. Instead it just sits on top of the front-loader, where lots of other miscellaneous household items end up. This morning there was a box of screwdrivers, a torch (that doesn't work), an empty washing powder box, and a drinking glass... Safety first in this house!

In the first few years that we lived here, before the boys were born, it wasn't so bad. We kind of rattled around in this big space, and between the two of us, didn't generate too much laundry. It was easy to keep tidy and organised.

Fast forward four years and it's a completely different story.

It drives me mad. It really does. I'm a visual person. But more than that, I am a person who needs a soothing visual palette for my mental health to remain intact. I can't handle looking at mess. If my surroundings are messy, I get agitated, cranky, short-tempered and anxious. I am well aware of how ridiculous that sounds, but it's true nonetheless. Besides, I know I'm in good company.

So, I have a plan. Adjacent to our laundry space is our linen cupboard. I want to build a frame and walls around the existing laundry space and put doors on the front so that it looks the same as the linen cupboard. Well, not me, personally, of course. Although it would be handy to know how to build stuff. I quite like the idea of wielding a nail gun and a saw.

Inside, I'm thinking I (again, not me, per se) might configure it a bit like this to give everything a rightful place, and create a bit of extra storage:

or this (how gorgeous is that timber):

Or even this (but with shorter cupboards because I know having them that low hanging would drive me mad), if I decide a folding surface is more important than a sink. Is it? Hmm. I don't know. Is a laundry sink a must-have?

On another tangent entirely, when I was looking for laundry design online I lost count of the number I saw styled with cotton tips and cotton balls. In the laundry. Why??? 

I've been thinking about making my own laundry powder too, although every recipe I see calls for Borax. I'm not sure I'm down with that. I'll keep searching.

When I grow up, and build a house, I'm having a whole laundry room. With a door. 

The road to less - part 3: the linen cupboard

We had 17 beach towels. 17. SEVENTEEN! What is with that?

We also had a stack of sheet sets for a bed that is now the guest bed, cot linen for cots no longer owned, bassinette linen from nearly four years ago, too many face washers to count, and towel sets missing vital pieces.

I pulled it all out, worked out what I truly thought the bare minimum could be, and donated the rest.

This makes me happy. Satisfied, actually. I like to see progress.

I can see what we have. There is space, which is like a big deep slow breath in. Nothing is squashed in, nothing will tumble out. Everything in its place. No more, no less. Enough. 

(Except I still think we have too many beach towels. But with a pool in the back garden, weekly swimming lessons, trips to the beach, and water play, I'm keeping them for now to see how we fare in the warmer months)

Kids live here

A few weeks ago one of my regular blog reads - Tahnee from Milk Please Mum - posted something that made my heart sing. She is part of a project called Kids Were Here, a group of photographers who capture the detail and evidence that children were indeed enjoying their spaces.

I think it's brilliant. Not just because their photography is obviously breathtaking, and meaningful, and loaded and emotional. But because it celebrates the joy, cheekiness, delight, fun and simplicity that comes with childhood. 

And then the beautiful Gaby, from This Little Port, showed her real house and her real spaces this week - yet another sign!

Children create chaos and mess; of that there is no doubt. But the images took my breath away. I saw childhood through a child's eyes, instead of through my own house-cleaning weary ones. 

In the spirit of ceasing being a cranky cow about the state of this house, I decided to take some inspiration from this project in the hope it might help me loosen up about mess, to stop cleaning, and to start playing. So for the past week, I've been snapping away, capturing memories of what my home is like when it's filled with two boisterous boys doing what they do best.

I LOVED IT! I highly recommend it. A slight shift in perspective was just what I needed.

So, here it is, in all its glory, evidence that kids live here - in my home, in my heart - in all its messy, misplaced, imperfect chaos. Beautiful, isn't it.

Why I crave simplicity

At a time when many are celebrating their career successes with new cars, big homes, the latest technologies, designer threads, expensive dinners out, nannies at home, and luxury holidays abroad, I feel myself being pulled in the opposite direction.

It's at this junction in life - right now when it would be easy to reward hard work with bigger, better, best - that I feel compelled to slow down, calm down, live sensibly and discover that a life with less stuff means more of the things that count.

Money comes and goes. Fourteen hour working days have a limited lifespan, before their frightening toll becomes real. Years pass by in the blink of an eye. I don't want this to play out in the pages of our life. I don't want us to be trapped into a life that is unsustainable and unhealthy.

I don't know precisely what it was that kicked it off, but I do know that spending less, owning less, making conscious decisions, and enjoying more is at least part of the answer.

I have so many ideas, dreams and plans. The decluttering continues. I've successfully pared back some key areas in our home: the kitchen, the bathrooms, the linen cupboard, the boys' toys and books, and my clothes, shoes and accessories.

I've donated a huge amount to charity, mainly via www.givit.org.au - you can search for items that are needed urgently and respond with anything you have that fits the need, or you can list your items and wait for a charity to contact you.

I've found it remarkably easier than I feared. I have barely hesitated over a single item. I have certainly felt cranky at times - at the wasted money particularly - but the harsh truth is that the money is already gone. The best thing we can do is to not repeat the same mistakes again.

Ask me if it's still as easy when I get to the boys' clothes. I get very sentimental over those. They are such reminders of just how much they've grown, of things they've achieved, of adventures they've had.

I predict areas like the garage, under-the-stairs, and the spare room cupboards will be laborious, but I think that's where I'll get the greatest sense of satisfaction. Imagine, we might even be able to get two cars into our double car garage. Who'd have thought!

Once the first full declutter is achieved, new habits will need to be reinforced. Rules will need to be applied, and regular clear-outs will form part of the rhythm of our lives.

I hope that by eliminating unnecessary stuff, the maintenance, cleaning, thinking, shopping, and and time associated with it is eliminated too. I hope extra time means less hurry, less stress, less pressure, and more enjoyment.

I dream of a little veggie patch, despite having the world's blackest thumb.I dream of a gentle and slow rhythm and ritual to our days. I dream of continuing to create days, months and years that build a beautiful childhood for our babes. And I dream of raising children who understand that things and love are not one and the same.

I feel inspired. And that feels good.

The road to less - part 2: the bathroom

It's funny; I'm so careful about what we put into our mouths, making conscious decisions about chemicals, additives, preservatives and processing, yet I haven't made that transition to the products we slather all over our skin.

I cleaned out my bathroom cabinet last week. It was a motley collection of old tubes - half squeezed, makeup well past its best, baby potions and lotions no longer needed, old medications and plasters, and enough hair products to fill a salon. Can I point out how hilarious this last point is, given I have had neither the time nor inclination to visit a hairdresser in nearly eight months.

Perhaps even more fascinatingly, for someone who's nails are brittle and short, and who has absolutely no skills in applying varnish, I have a dizzying array of nailpolish. I wonder where they all came from? I've kept some of course; I secretly dream of being the kind of girl who changes her nail colour as regularly as her outfits.

Before, I had a cupboard under the sink that was full to bursting, with products I neither needed, used nor even knew were there. I had also purchased a three tier drawer set to house the other ESSENTIALS that didn't fit beneath the sink.

See?

Appalling. The rest was so embarrassing I couldn't bear to share.

Now, my beneath-the-sink is enough. More than enough. There is even room for a fully kitted out travel bag of toiletries that is ready to pack at a moment's notice (for all those glamourous last minuteweekend getaways, of course....).

Edited.

I tossed an appalling amount. And carefully edited the rest. My flimsy three basket drawers are no longer needed in here and have been relegated to serve the rest of their days as garage storage.

My decision now is to be far more conscious of what I purchase when the current items reach their end. To think carefully about ingredients and purpose. To whittle my basics down to a few, fabulous, products that provide only what I need.

How I'm feeling

I know I'm only two rooms in to a large house and garage, but I'm feeling really good about getting rid of excess. I feel immediately lighter. Things stand out more when there is space around them. More space, means more calm. Less stuff means more room. And more room means more of the things that really make us happy; family, fun, friends, and time.

I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to fill the spaces up again. In fact, the opposite is true. I can not wait to get rid of more. Last night, I sorted my bedside table drawers - all that's in them now is what i'm currently reading, an eye mask, and some hand cream.

And, just now, in the time it took to boil the kettle for a soothing cup of tea on this dreary morning, I tackled my shoe collection and halved it. At least halved it, actually. It feels fabulous.

On the other hand, I suppose I can't help but feel appalled, ashamed and even a little bit angry.

How did I end up with so much stuff? Why did I ever think I needed it? I feel rather alarmed at amount of money spent on things we don't need, the wasted time shopping for it, cleaning it, and finding it when it's adrift in a sea of stuff, and more than a bit conscious-stricken about the lack of thoughtful purchasing.

I feel like I'm seeing things entirely differently. The balance has shifted. I'm enjoying the journey.

The road to less - part 1: the kitchen

That day I woke up, with yet another mild feeling of panic, something shifted in my gut and I just knew enough was enough. I had to wrestle back control of our waste, our consumption, our consumerism.

I have no intention of living with radical minimalism. I simply want us to make conscious decisions. I want my boys to know that owning lots of things doesn't make you happy. That there is a huge difference between necessity and convenience. And a huge difference between needs and wants. I have no interest whatsoever in never fulfilling the 'wants', but I do have a strong interest in becoming more mindful consumers.

Our kitchen is the heart of our home. I spend hours in it cooking for my family, teaching my boys how to bake, sipping hot tea, entertaining friends, and sitting under the window, laptop fired up, in my 'office' with a view. It made sense for me to start my journey there.

My kitchen was overspilling with out of date food, utensils I never touch, appliances that we don't use or need, and junk drawers that were full of... junk, funnily enough.

But I tackled it.  It took a full day - from 8am - 5.30pm. Somewhere in the middle I wondered if I'd actually make any sense of the chaos. But I did. I gifted, and thrifted, and tossed a huge amount of stuff that wasn't needed or useful, that was beyond repair, or out of date.

It's not perfect. There is still too much stuff. But I have made a huge difference, and importantly, a commitment to review in a month and undertake another cull.

Here's a visual of the beginning. Imagine this in every cupboard and drawer.

Yes, that is an old receipt. And a formula scoop that hasn't been required for at least 2.5 years. Why???

And here's the midway point; when I wondered how I was going to make sense of it all.

And here's the end result.

I cook a lot. For pleasure, for health, and for economy. I try to avoid boxes, packets, additives and preservatives, which means we have a lot of raw and whole ingredients. Having them well organised so they can be identified at a quick glance is total luxury. 

Not even 'under the sink' escaped. As as much as I love the smell of these cleaning products, I won't be replacing them when they're finished. I have been using boiling water and eucalyptus oil to clean absolutely everything all year and I am fully converted. It's environmentally friendly, cost-effective, and a natural disinfectant.

Pared back. We had seven pairs of tongs. And so much plastic kiddo cutlery. Crazy.

I think the bathrooms are up next.