Bounce

Bounce. When a run is easy I bounce like I’m on springs. When I bake I check by pressing a finger and watching the baked goodies bounce back. To me resilience is bounce and that is not about never falling and not even about how quickly you bounce back or even if you bounce back all the way. It’s about the determination to do so. We all have good days and less days and all around crap days. Sometimes the days are connected. Sometimes the wind changes so dramatically you get lost in the tailspin. Combine those and you wonder what the heck you did in a previous life to have this karma beat down. That has been the past month for me. I started December wonderfully fresh with 21 and loved Christmas right up until the morning of and then slowly I started slipping. So slowly and slippery I didn’t even realise at first.

It started with tiredness. I have just the one setting; tired, but with rounding out the work year and doing Christmas by myself took a toll. And then a unexpected remark about my person blew a hole in the core of the person I am striving to be. By midday on the 25^th, I couldn’t find a scrap of energy left on the bottom of the barrel. I remember then having to scrap the ice of my car the next morning and cart my kids off for the second day of Christmas with eyes so wide I looked like a startled deer. And then I got home and looked at my beautiful, empty home and wanted to rip the decorations down. That feeling lasted all the week in varying degrees despite my determination to make good use of the free time. I go into nesting mood like you wouldn’t believe, cleaning, sewing, editing, reading, rearranging. Yet come night time and my body is tired but my mind is abuzz. Repeat not a morning person and never will be. Sleep evades me, much less quality of sleep. I also have the worst body regulation and therefore multiple bedding sets because I make angel imprints every night despite no pj's and an open window keeping my room at fridge-like temperatures. I won’t even go into detail about New Year’s. Typically there is that one person who you want to see first and say Happy New Year’s to when the clock strikes twelve and if you’re lucky your that one for some else, the first thought in their mind and the one they look for through the fireworks. 

After another drenched night, made worse by a cold, came the first Monday of the New Year. I got my kids ready to take my daughter to school and my car didn’t start. I had to walk my daughter with my son on my arm in the morning frost to school. Despite having car calamity I still got a hefty bill for a simple battery jump. I dawned on me how odd it was to have no one to ask for such a small favour and despite planning still a hassle. Then I realised I needed to get the tree undecorated and out for the trash collectors. A sucky job at best but that day, dragging that 3 metre tall shedder through my home and out across the road and cleaning up the pine needle explosion instead of just being able to spend time with the kids or sit down after the crappy morning was maddening. From there the night shift of dinner, showers, hair, cuddles and books and the start of the week’s exercise routine and still no sleep.

Tuesday, first workday of the week and I was already swearing. Wednesday first run of the week; crap but faster and then I crashed like I do sometimes where it takes me an hour or two to get my temperature regulated. Thursday and back at power yoga after the holiday break and my first thought was back on the negativity train of ‘you’re fat’ when faced with the floor to ceiling mirrors and for the first time I bowed out of a pose because my knee popped painfully. I had a headache all that week. I get chest pains sometimes followed by a weird tingling from my fingers travelling up my arm back to my chest and blurred vision and it freaks me out and that week they came again. By the end of the week I fell asleep at 7 am, only half an hour before I was meant to get up and go running. Not even a long run but halfway through I was already sweating like I was at a bikram yoga class and I just didn’t see it anymore. The point or the will. Funny nothing major, just all the little things wore me down and I couldn’t see past the moment. My body strained, my mind stressed and feeling in my core that there is no safety net. I can, yes I can became simply I can’t, I don’t. I said to myself because I truly felt it "I’m beaten". I’d lost my bounce. More like a manky limp..at walking pace.

I guess that’s exhaustion because despite not being in any way a good night’s rest, I finally slept, sweaty, filled with bad dreams and head pounding just for moving it on the cushion but nonetheless for nine hours. And when my kids came home that night and we played for that last hour before bed time, I smiled again and for the rest of the night. The sweetness that is my daughter when she looks at me and says ‘I wanted to pick flowers for you, purple your favourite, to make you happy’ or the giggle explosion as I do the nighttime routine of tossing, spins and tickles from my son. His laugh is the most amazingly pure sound. These were my triggers to reset.

Mediate
After Christmas I started with daily meditation. Just ten minutes, if possible in the morning but usually at night and often right before bedtime. Those few minutes help me focus and take it as is. From life without a safety net to being able to see the clouds, the birds, the sky better because there is no netting to obstruct from the view. I use the app Headspace on my iPhone and it works for me. I love that you can choose the length of the session and that there are single or themed sessions like the one on sleep.


Sleepy time
Bedtime is completely renewed and is a ritual of routine & calm a as is the recommended way in the Netherlands for kids (Rust, Regelmaat & Reinheid). I try for a standard downtime, I spritz my pillow and sheets with a calming zen scent, I put the screens away and leave them even when I wake in the middle of the night. The biggie is sound. I keep the window directly across from my bed ajar for the crisp air but the white noise is what does it for me. It has been storming and windy for about a week and the sound of the wind works better for me than stillness.

Eat (well)
My weekly shop now includes meals for the days the kids are gone, where I used to make no effort. I start the day with breakfast, even if I have to take it with me, because nothing runs on empty. I’m slowly switching out the caffeine drip that is my fluids intake for rich fruit juice, tea and water. I am planning a detox week where I hope to give the sugar but also the lactose dependency a good butt kicking. I am lactose intolerant yet my greatest pleasures are Starbucks and creamed butter in everything. I know both are kicking me each day repeatedly in the gut as well as bloating away my hard-earned abs but how much good can that be doing on the long-term on the inside where you can’t see it?

Plan the fun
I keep meaning to do more fun and relaxing things but then when you leave it to the end of the week, you risk not doing it because it is no longer an option or because tiredness sets in. Either way come weekend and I’m usually curled up in ball by 8 pm and trying to get some rest. And so it goes week in, week out. So why not plan the fun just like any other commitment? One fun activity a week, from going to the movies again to simply reading a book with a big mug of tea in my rocker. And while just taking the time to read is a push, the goal is to go out. I love dancing but rarely do. The last time I danced was probably a year ago and before that years but I remember how happy I was shaking my tail feathers despite it not being my music. It was about feeling young, fun and free. I need to do the things that remind it’s not all chores and routines. Sometimes it is simply smiling.

Fighting fit
Exercise is a major part of my life. Everyday I do something for my body. I try and do more reps or harder stances each week. I go for fit when I'm stiff, stuffy and sick. I know that I can be fitter while I am already fitter than I have ever been in my life and probably fitter than most in the winter. My daughter went "woah, mom, how do you dare do that" while I was showing off on the rings.. But I also know when I should take it easier but don't. Constant knee pain, chest pains, shaking for hours and all the other signs usually happen when I needed to take a step back, at least for a day but I hate backing down, even for a day. I rather struggle and shake than not do the exercise. But I want to move for the rest of my life and that means pace. Who cares if I got extra reps on my one-legged push-ups this week or how fast or far I ran? The question is how good I feel, before, during and after. It´s not killer fit, it´s fighting fit.

P.S. the photo is an old Instagram of mine but when I think of resilience this little curbside strawberry springs straight to mind. Solitary, delicate and strong can come even from the rockiest and unlikeliest of places. Determined to grow. Bounce, baby!

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A Day in...

I shy away from hanging photographs, especially photos of people. You just don't seen those on my walls. Call me weird, but somehow having actual people staring back just seems disconcerting. That however, does not mean my walls are blank. I love art and photographs, just a bit more abstract.

For a cozy little corner I created in my master, where I stop, snuggle in and unwind or doze off while rocking, I have been daydreaming of art. Soft, dreamlike art. I fell in love with this print from One Must Dash called A Day in May. All blurry and unfocused, it does not get more dreamlike. The feeling of the piece is my mood when I’m in my spot..like clouds on a May day; unfocused, thoughtful and calm. 

The first picture is from the One Must Dash website. Another great piece of theirs is For Rest, it has a hint more melancholy. The second picture is from The Poster Club, because the styling is just right; simple and stunning.

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Ceramic treasures

I promised to show you the spoils of my Arnhem treasure hunt. I decided to start with the smallest because great things come in small packages;

A perfect little geometric brooch from Lenneke Wispelwey. The colour is so soft and muted, which adds softness to the angularness, as the pattern adds depth. It is such a lovely piece. My daughter unwrapped it on Christmas morning and once pinned on stood back and said lovely. Like mother, like daughter.  Pictured sitting in one of the cubbies of the equally beautiful Idle Wood jewelry cupboard from Jenna Postma that I gifted myself on my last birthday. What better spot for such a treasure?

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War of the wardrobes

Originally I figured I would get it done in one go..clearing up my wardrobe. It took three different days (one metre a day) spread out during the week between Christmas and New Year. Why? Because it is boring, depressing, time-consuming, tedious and worst the longer the sit the more stuff that gets kept that shouldn’t. One look and you know I had way too much stuff because they look pretty gosh-darn full after the edit. Yet I removed a whooping 60% at least! My criteria:

• It has to fit because saggy is not a style. I took some pieces to the tailor in the fall only to have to do it again now but tailoring is taking something that fits and making it better not trying to make the entire piece a difffrent size. It’s about the shape, so even with a nipped in waist it is just overall flour sack.
• Flour sack fashion brings me to rule two. It has to be flattering, humans are not mannequins so we cannot get away with pinning and clipping. And here also, shape, my shape is vital. If it does not look on my body, it does not belong in my wardrobe.
• It has to get worn. So it fits and it’s flattering but do I wear it? There is no point in collecting clothes, it is about wearing them. If it is so specific that it still hanging unworn after several months..why? Not just floor-length ball gowns but anything that just does not make it out like way too much ahem clubbers gear.
• My style. My style has become less eclectic. I love young fun but I feel too mature (in a good way) to walk around with hearts on my sweater. I adored flubby dresses but architectural is now my go-to. It tore it up with work appropriate gear but a button down with an A-line skirt makes me yawn today.

These were my edit rules. Good rules. That made it jack squat easier to do the edit. Lots of my more recent purchases, often unworn with tags, my favourites, my expensive bits. A lot of those did not make it through. Margiela, Isabel Marant, Alexander Wang, my favorite brand Acne and the rest, ouch. And even now, a week later, I realize more still has to go. One of the first things I kept was the pink woolen pants I wore on my 21^st birthday when I hosted my first big dinner party in my first small shared apartment. The happy memories made it see its way past the rules till I spent the day pulling it up at the waist and trying not to trip over the length of it. Same said for a unique designer dress that just does not make the best of me. So the rules are a great starting point but are not the end station. And so each morning, I reevaluate with the rules and the editing continues.

On the upside I realize more than before, stop waiting, wear the clothes now. Get up, dress up, show up, now! And equally important a clearer understanding of my wardrobe. I do like color but in the end the whites, greys, lights and oh the black is king. My basic pieces that are now all gone; boyfriend jeans, fitted blazer, one black leather pencil and one simpler shorter-yet-not-mini skirt, a good plain tee in grey and one in white and stylish yet comfortable flats. I have plenty of tees, with prints, cut-outs and other detailing but nothing the way I like it best now, paired back; a pencil, heels, tee and rocking clutch. Those great detailed tees are my go-to for my now deceased boyfriend jeans with loafers. Throw on a blazer or on top of a dress with a blazer and you have my other favorite combo. That grey sequined dress with a black blazer and plain Stan Smith style sneakers in black makes it work for my life. So while I have plenty of tops and dresses, the building blocks are missing. Back to basics.

I’m scouring the winter sales as we speak sales for good, affordable pieces to but the foundations back under my wardrobe but here is the basics rule; quality matter because these bits takes the biggest hits in the wear count.

P.S. No rule about numbers, because I wear all ten scarfs and all eleven gloves, depending on the mood and look. I can't even start on bags and my true love shoes but when I get the first four rules down to an art, I might try my luck at the numbers..

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Wintered

I update this space quite a bit. See here, here, here and here. What can I say? The hall is the business card of your home and you only get one shot to make a good if not damn great first impression.

What this space says to me now is ‘winter warmth’ despite it not even being that cold in the Netherlands. The palette is neutral with an almost completely grey and white scheme. Not the flat sluggish grey I see a lot when I look out the windows because of all the different tones of grey and especially the mix of materials and textures. In fact it is an extremely tactile space and I rub my hand over the sheepskin everything I pass the stairs. It’s like having a cuddly pet..pup or lamb, without all that care and walking. I love the fact that the space is still functional and fun but now also more calming. I wish there was texture-vision (my twist on the chocolate bar telly in my fave childhood book) where you can reach in and feel because this space feels like a hug. I often stop and just sit on my furry friend, often with a coffee, and think on how at home I feel.

And it only required shifting a few things between rooms. The ridged plant pots came from my bedroom and which I bought way back when I was student and had to carry them on the bus in my backpack, the Hay kaleidoscope tray is from the living, the braided felt basket for blankets, gloves and other winter paraphernalia was first kids toy storage, the glass bud vase came from my dresser and the little lacquer container is part of a set that resided on a coffee table I have not had for years! The only new thing is the sheepskin, which is from the Ikea and so not expensive but also not synthetic because I’m still horribly allergic to dust and floating bits and the Flokati I used to have shed so much I felt the need to stock up on those acute allergy attack needles that got stuck in my butt as a kid if I played with the rabbits too much. Other than that, just the blossom twigs and one single tulip. I get fresh flowers almost every week because nothing makes you feel better, physically and mentally, than the beauty of nature. Plus what says home more flowers and plants? Welcome to the my winter home and there is more to come as there are a few other new or updated nooks now that the tree and decorations are out.

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Schedule

New week, new schedule. This week I want to share;

• A(nother) restyling of my hall because packing up the Christmas decorations means new chances.
• A peek into the chore that took me days..battling my bulging wardrobe. Who won the war?
• A mini-series of my Arnhem treasure expeditions, starting with the smallest purchase.
• A little something artsy for my nook and more about the new nook.

P.S. I take loads of pictures of my week, often starting with the flowers that brighten my table, so I figured why not share?

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