Author: Becky Gean

As I type this***, my daughter is whinecrying my name, my son is yelling what sort of sounds like YABBA DABBA DOOO over and over again, even though I know that’s not actually what he’s saying, there’s a robot vacuum that we’ve named Eva making whooshing noises while roaming around the kitchen. My dog is being told not to circle the table for the 27th time this evening, I’m being asked to watch a video online that I’ll smile at and then forget about tomorrow and I’m just about ready to check myself into a hotel – alone – just to get some silence.

But then I think, what if I check in and there’s a couple next door who can’t keep it down, or an elderly person who needs to have the television volume up to a point where not only I, but the neighbouring three units must bear to hear in order for themselves to hear.  Sigh.  I have good headphones – I have great headphones actually, and they tend to do the trick, when they’re turned on.  I’ve since ignored “Mumma” a solid 7-10 times… 11, 12, as I continue the typing.  It doesn’t seem to stop until that door is shut and a final ‘GOODNIGHT!’ is muttered in a way that’s both pleasant but also comes across as “STAY THERE UNTIL MORNING AND BE QUIET!”

Frankly, I’m tired.  The to do list is long and I’m trying to figure out where the balance is between family time, business time that pays the bills, business time that’s meant for growth and learning and then genuine ME TIME.

How do you decide which things come first?
How can the day not feel so exhausting?

I find things fall into place on their own by starting the morning off right – with yourself, by yourself and for yourself.  In the morning, I decided that I come first. I rise and give myself, at the very least, 20 minutes.

20 minutes that doesn’t feel like work or I have to’s or talking to another human.
20 minutes all for me and the rest of the day feels a little bit easier than if I had given myself no time at all.
20 minutes to…eat a slow breakfast.
20 minutes to… meditate.
20 minutes to… sing in the shower.
20 minutes to… journal all the thoughts.
20 minutes to… stare out the window.
20 minutes to… watch half of that show i never get around to.
20 minutes to… pet the pet.
20 minutes to… stretch.  the kind that really makes you let out a loud sigh.
20 minutes to… listen to a podcast.
20 minutes to… read a book.
20 minutes to… talk to your plants.
20 minutes to… dance about.
20 minutes to… sit and do absolutely nothing. 

… your own list will start to grow the more you take those 20 minutes for yourself, starting tomorrow morning.

Give yourself 20 minutes every morning.

Why?  Because if it’s the only “me time” you’ll end up getting in the day, doing it first thing not only gets it out of the way, it means it gets done.  You get that time because you’ve dedicated that time for yourself.

i know, i know, rocket science, but “easier said than done folks” is what i’d say to that.
 Don’t get me wrong, I always strive for a lot more – an hour, sometimes two!  But at the very least, 20 minutes.  and I don’t EVER mean spend those precious minutes scrolling social media outlets.

SO
Did I give myself 20 minutes this morning?  No.  Do I regret it now with all the noise around me?  Yes.  Do I believe I would have been better equipped to get through the evening if I had given myself 20 minutes this morning?
You bet!

***Funny how when I sat down, writing this initially, I didn’t think I’d ever get any length of alone time, anytime soon.  Well!  Ask and you shall receive because I’m now finishing this newsletter off in the comfort of an empty home listening to a Count Basie Beatles album and I don’t have to put anyone to sleep tonight except myself.

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there was something so familiar in sitting down and easily having that title flow through my fingers as the starting off point for, yet again, another long awaited hello. i’m trying to decide if my writing should be blog posts or newsletters or both… and when it comes down to it, i just need to write – it doesn’t matter what form or platform or how long even. but if i have preference, i think i’ve decided it’s to be on a platform i at least have control over.  so blog posts and newsletters it shall be!  i think i may even turn some of my old instagram captions into posts.

anyways, it always seems to be so long in between my posts that i’m not sure where to take these rambly tangents. where to begin.

our beloved Tut passed away in august. it was difficult going through old photos of him, finding which one to print and hang in our home. a smile would cross my face remembering a time i had forgotten about but that was brought back because of the photograph. then a wave of sadness would hit as i’d come across a different photograph. the years he was with us were enough to call him a chapter in our lives and he’ll be greatly remembered and lovingly missed.

months would pass and a friend would point us in the direction of a dog named Turbo who was looking to be adopted. let me tell you first off, i am not a dog person. i thought i could just get a dog and say i’m a dog person, but no – dogs are a different beast than cats. i grew up with whatever strays found their way to our home and for the most part, they were cats. my dad grew up with Beagles, all of which ended up succumbing to the nearby road he grew up on and i just don’t think he wanted my brother and i to have to go through the same emotional turmoil that he went through, therefore, no pets of our own growing up. but hey, that’s just my theory.

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Turbo is a great addition to our family and his name, well, it suits him. he’s very active! he’s also protective and kind to the kids but wow do i wish he listened more. i see myself searching dog training videos on youtube in my future. the annoyance i feel for a dog, a big dog, near the dinner table is something fierce. maybe it’s just that i can hear the pitter patter of his feet on the laminate floor and knowing that all he’s thinking when he’s circling the table is “drop food drop food drop food.”
it needs to stop.
and the poop and hair – wow. i thought cat hair was bad! i thought changing the litter was bad! again, maybe it’s that he’s just a big dog in general, but i was just not expecting the sheer, volume, of what was to come. he makes up for it by bringing such joy to our family though and adding an extra level of fitness to our life that wouldn’t otherwise be there. Tut was a wonderful companion, but he wasn’t so stoked on walks around the block.

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Seeds were started early enough in the basement this year that I believe i’ll be able to successfully say that a lot of the vegetables that grow in my garden this year were started from seed rather than transplants from the local garden centre. i did join the local horticultural group though and am excited for the second year at participating in their plant exchange and sale. who knows what will end up in my garden thanks to a local gardener! the conversations that start from such a simple exchange of plants is wonderful.

I’ve been writing a lot – most mornings if I can get my head off the pillow and most evenings before my head wants to hit the pillow again.  I talk about my method of writing in some of my newsletters.  Have you signed up yet?  I’ve also been doing newsletters for the family business, Workshop Supply.  With a subscriber list of over 5000+ folks, they receive content that’s relevant to the products Workshop Supply sells and geared towards makers, woodworkers and DIYers.
Considering I might have some fun news to share in the coming months, I’d suggest you sign up to receive my own Little Siddall Studios newsletters to your inbox if you haven’t already.  I’ve put two links below to sample newsletters if you’re curious to check them out before signing up.  Sign Up links are below the samples.

View a Sample Workshop Supply Newsletter Here View a Sample Little Siddall Studios Newsletter Here SIGN UP for Workshop Supply Newsletters here SIGN UP for Little Siddall Studios Newsletters Here

i like that you’re here.

if i’m being honest, some of these words i wrote back in 2012 and some of these words i wrote in 2020. whether i met you then, know you now or are just getting to – i think it’s nice that you’re here.

i think that’s a funny element about life in general. the comings and goings. the waves. the forgets to remember again. …speaking of forgetting. stepping away from this website and blog for any amount of time, my brain hurts trying to remember technical backend processes and i may have just flooded my former blog subscribers with 27 “new but actually old” blog posts their way. ahhh the joys of doing the entire process yourself.

it used to be that in between the daily grind of work, i would find time to head out to a play, catch a flick, try a new restaurant, or stay in and create my own magic. whatever the case may be, i often had and still have something to say – so why not continue to say it. however old or new news it becomes.

i can be lovely with my words, but i warn you, i can also be very snide… or matter of fact. i tend to write how i want to write. i don’t follow all the rules, so i apologize if my lack of proper grammar or spelling makes you cringe at times.  i think it’s all part of my charm.

i invite you to be your own critic!
only you know what you REALLY like.  if I help you on your way to finding a little bit of happiness, a little bit of joy, then VOILA! extra bonus.

whether on the blog, on instagram, or straight to your inbox by signing up for my newsletter… i hope you enjoy my ranting.

until then, nice to meet you – i think we’ve met before.

always so nervous to take the first leap into the world of sourdough, this isolation begged for the trial to begin. honestly, who hasn’t heard of someone who has heard of someone who has gone down this path since staying indoors for the safety of all?

day 2
she’s alive and well. i think i need to name her. i send her photograph to a few friends as if she was a newborn baby.

day 3/4
business as usual. i change up the rhythm in which i’m weighing and measuring out ingrediants in order to make the feeding quick and seamless.

day 5
i forget what day it is and wonder if it’s only day 4. thankfully i put a timer on my phone, aptly named “feed the mother, maybe both” as to not forget. a moment of reflection for myself – how much did i eat today? did i actively sit down and savour a meal or did i graze as i went?

day 6
hastily trying to complete the task in order to sit down to a movie, i forget to measure out the water correctly and add too much. i wonder if the previous days efforts are all for nothing and send good thoughts her way.

day 7
gently and carefully, measuring everything, twice – i attempt to save her. i think i did okay. i send her more good thoughts and head to bed.

day 8
she looks good! i debate putting her to use but favour the idea of feeding her again and making crackers with her discard.

day 9
crackers made. she’s ready for her first loaf. tomorrow i think.

day 10
i’m tired. so very tired. i decide to put her into hibernation for a week and go from there. another batch of crackers are made with her discard before heading to the fridge. her name – Iron Mother.

no – i’ve never read the book. the one about the girl. but it did make me think of the title of that book.

Mark Martyre.
www.markmartyre.com

considering my love affair with music, i was pleasantly surprised to find myself in the company of a musician. take a listen to their music if you have a moment. their raspy soulful voice brings depth to the lyrics that’s reminiscent of young heartbreak.

for anyone who thinks having children and being afforded any amount of time to stay home with them is a luxury – one that allows for space and time to work on all the things you always wanted to, but never seemed to find the time for – think again. just, stop. it’s a fantasy.
i mean, go ahead and have your own ideas and assumptions, just know, they might be terribly wrong.

finding the time, and i feel the need to emphasize, uninterrupted time, is like finding a four leaf clover among the outfield in a baseball diamond. having been temporarily laid off, i have the biggest urge to write. and garden. and bake. all things which i enjoy to do, on my own. uninterrupted. the flow is different when it’s not being asked to dam up.

now – i don’t want to discount or neglect to say, that i know i say all of this from a very fortunate place of privilege.
take what you will, to each their own, from anything i write.

i love my children – i really really do – but i wasn’t meant to be a teacher and mother to them 24/7. there’s something to be said about growing up on your own, and among others.
another time, another blog post. perhaps.

unfortunately by the time they’ve gone to bed, so has the sun on the backyard.
i realize that it’s purely impatience on my part. as if, this time, and the unknown of it’s longevity brings the need to complete all on my to-do list, as soon as humanly possible. still unclear where little siddall studios is going to go – but for now – at the very least – the writing has come back – a little while anyways, and for however long, we never know.

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i’ve always romanticized the idea of living on a hobby farm. i’d need help though – a lot of it. i realize this. half jokingly i bring it up in conversation rather frequently to see if it sparks the fancy of anyone around me just so i can keep a running tally of folks to call upon should i ever find myself with 50+ acres.

Josh has been working away in the backyard for me. I say “working away” and “for me” because as many times as I ask him, he says it doesn’t seem to bring him any joy – only joy in knowing that it ultimately brings me joy.
i’ll take it.

for now – i leave you with the, somewhat, before photo – pictured above and a hope that in a few months time it will look drastically different and with some growth, the vegetable kind, showing.

happy thursday – wherever you are.

it’s been quite sometime since i’ve sat down and just wrote.  for years i would journal daily in my go-to moleskine planner.  which reminds me, i need to go purchase it for 2018.  last year i waited too long and they were sold out EVERYWHERE.  it made me incredibly sad because i’m so specific with the feel and the sizing.  anyways, this post is not about my love of moleskine journals, no – but rather my need to remind myself that it isn’t always about the photos.  sometimes just the words will do.

when i started LSS back in 2012 and still to this day, i’ve only ever used my own photos to go along with my posts.  this then meant that my subject matter of posts were very planned out.  or if it wasn’t, it meant i was stuck digging through countless folders on harddrives trying to find that “right one” that would correlate to what i was posting about.  i was and still am causing myself more work and more grief because of my want to keep this space 100% authentically my own.  when you come to the littlesiddallstudio website i want you to know that you’re getting my voice.  my thoughts.  and if you’re here to check out my galleries and inquire about a photo shoot, well that’s pretty cool too.  but I don’t want it to be the ONLY reason you come here.

i want you to come here for some unfiltered randomness when you find yourself wanting to take a moment.  a break from the constant that’s in your brain now.
so with that in mind, there might not be pictures attached to every post.  deal.
and in helping you to deal with this i might add in a fun link or two for you to check out because the internet is littered with information.  some funny.  some informative.  some i actually want to share with others!

to start you off, here’s a funny AND INFORMATIVE article about poo.  you’re welcome.