I wanted to pop in with an update on costuming with the kids.
My goal was to create a mid-18th century working class look, with all the visible stitching done by hand. For the sake of time, all the inner long seams were machine sewn, then hand finished.
Because this is supposed to be fun, I didn’t want to go down a rabbit hole of ideas about how the costumes “should” look and or get too neurotic about what was Historically Accurate.
I’m on high alert a lot of the time. The past few weeks have been especially bad. When I meditate, or take a walk outside, I can temporarily hit pause on all the stimulation my brain is getting and it settles way down. Then, the volume shoots back up to ten.
This Halloween was clear and chilly, and a Saturday. In an alternate universe, it would have been the perfect day for trick-or-treating, but the sidewalks were empty.
I hopped onto Instagram for some pretty pictures this weekend and found a lot of melancholy. People were taking stock of their lives and feeling sad and discouraged. It seemed to be a theme.
It makes sense. It’s Labor Day weekend, and according to a book I just read, When: The Scientific Secrets of Perfect Timing, by Daniel H. Pink, we tend to assess where we are and make big changes on significant days in our lives.
For me, fall is a heavy hitter – it’s the beginning of the school year, Labor Day, and my birthday. Three opportunities to launch into a fresh start, or flop over sideways with a weak wave.
It was fascinating to be reading about this phenomenon of significant days in our lives being a catalyst for change while seeing the real-time effects of Labor Day weekend play out on social media.
Years ago, when I had fewer kids, I would go barefoot in the house come summertime. The first warm day there was a bit of dread as I came downstairs sockless in the morning, knowing I was about to find out how dirty my floors had gotten over the winter.
I’d feel the grit under my feet and pull out the broom, and the rest of the summer would be a tug between kids, crumbs, dirt, and my bare feet.
Several kids later, I’ve given up and wear socks year-round. I do clean my floors, often multiple times a day, but not frequently enough for bare feet.
