In Love With Old.

The buying ban is going well. It has been a lot of fun, actually. Apart from my regular hankering for a Thermomix, I haven't yet missed anything. All our needs have thus far been met, and we are enjoying being creative in sourcing things. If we can't find something, we don't buy it.

We have broken the buying ban once. We moved our chicken pen to the back of our block, and discovered that our backyard hose was not long enough to reach the new pen. We bought a hose connector to join our two hoses up so we could still replenish the duck pond and chicken drinking water. We bought a metal one, on the premise that it will last longer, and is less likely to break and become landfill.

I have developed a slight eBay addiction hobby. In fact, I have mastered the art of 'snipering' and have developed a failsafe strategy for keeping the bids low whilst still ensuring the kill win purchase.

So, here are some of my favourite purchases this year.... some of these have come from local Facebook secondhand selling sites, some from Gumtree and of course, some from eBay.

 I actually haven't decided whether this enamel milk jug and cream container will be purely decorative or not.... but I just love them!

 

 I gave my old plastic washing basket to my mum when I found this gorgeous sturdy wicker one. Wicker baskets make me feel like more of a wife and homemaker. I can't explain it, they are just magic like that.

 Nath cracked my old (cheap) mortar and pestle and for the first time during the buying ban I was worried as I wasn't sure I would find a decent one secondhand - its not the kind of thing people generally get rid of. However, I was lucky enough to find this beauty on gumtree for $40, and, even better, it had only ever been used for decorative purposes! These usually sell for $70 - $80 new.

The sifter was something I bought after cleaning out my overflowing Tupperware cupboard. Over the years, I have bought so much Tupperware that I literally had to open the door to the cupboard, throw things in and shut the door quickly so nothing fell out. I did a huge cleanout, partially to empty my cupboard and partially to rid our kitchen of unneccessary plastic. I grew up with a sifter like this (although my mum has since 'upgraded'!) and was thrilled to find this one cheap on eBay.

 I bought Nath this didgeridoo as a gift from someone locally who was selling things in preparation to move. Nath first started dreaming of owning a didgeridoo over five years ago when we were travelling. I remember him looking at some at the markets in Broome. At the time, all of our money was going towards caravan park fees, fuel to get to the next place and food. Finally, I am able to treat him to one. This one is made from Northern Territory Blackbutt wood.

I remember a set of these lined up on my grandmother's benchtop when I was a little girl. This was a purely nostalgic purchase, and well worth it for the looks on my own girls' faces when they saw them - they love the shiny, bright colours (and the sound the lids make when clanged together).

These purchases have weaved their way into the texture of our home and make our spaces feel like they have a bit of story to them. I am loving my home these days, it is so rewarding to create a beautiful, restoring place for our family, and for my children to be able to grow up with some of the memories of special things, similar to the ones that I have from my childhood in my mother's kitchen and laundry, as well as my grandmother's.

A Woman's Work Is Never Done.

I don't, for one second, wish to imply that a man's work is ever done, or that women work harder. I have the utmost respect for the role of men in society, employment and family today and the tension they strike between these areas of their lives.

I have, however, been reflecting on the cyclical nature of housekeeping. I apologise for the gender assumptions I make here, but in our house, since I left paid employment, the logistical running of the house falls to me, and Nath continues in paid employment and upkeeps the gardens. It works, for now.
At least daily, I find myself muttering (or wailing, depending on the day) some variation of the phrase "all I ever do is clean." So much so, that Miya, one housecleaning day, turned it into a song as she helped me in my daily tasks. Since then I have attempted to instill in her a sense of value in the little tasks she does around the house, as well as the tasks she sees me complete.

For a long time, I have seen housework as a task that needs completing. I can't relax in my home unless I have ticked off the cleaning and housekeeping items on the list in my head for that day. Of course, once the list is complete, no sooner do I sit down and put my feet up than there is something more to clean. That is the nature of running a house, particularly one so lived in by small children.

Yesterday I had a headache. It was severe enough for me to put Playschool on for the girls, ring Nath and ask him to come home early and close my eyes to the world. Before doing so, I surveyed my house and felt the familiar anxiety that arises from having so much to do, but knew that I would be silly to push myself to do it. My body needed rest, and was telling me in no uncertain terms to give in to it. When I woke up this morning, the work was still there, more or less. Nath and the girls had tidied some things, but in place of the tasks completed were more chores vying for my attention.

But, imagine if we cleaned the house and it stayed clean? Imagine if we washed the clothes and there was no need to ever wash them again? Or if we cooked a meal that sustained our families for eternity? Would there be any value in that? Through our roles as women, we teach our daughters to nurture. We teach our sons to appreciate. We remind our husbands to respect. I have been trying so hard to teach Miya the value of a woman's work, and yet have forgotten to remind myself that what I do is important... not only for what it gives others, but for what it gives me.

I want to embrace the rhythm of housekeeping, the way it cycles around, daily, weekly, annually. The way it keeps my hands busy, my mind active, my children clean and clothed and fed. The joy of a task well completed, the challenge of a task not yet begun. I can't promise that the next time my children run sand across my freshly swept floor I won't raise my eyes to the ceiling and sing out, "Why do I bother?!" but I will endeavour to learn to relax amidst the piles of washing, the sink of dishes and the scattered toys, knowing that it will still be there tomorrow, and tomorrow is not far away.