MommyCoddle

32

Saturday was my 32nd birthday. I thought about giving you a list of “32 things on my 32nd birthday”. But I did that two years ago. So instead, I used a little quiet time that my husband gave me on my birthday to finally finish my About Page and give this blog a little makeover for the final weeks of summer.

There are new books in the sidebar for me and the girls, and a link to take you directly to my Bushel and Peck posts on Momformation. And thank you to Cassi for featuring my “watercolor blobs” on The Crafty Crow last week. I feel honored to see that little badge in my sidebar because goodness knows I really wanted one! I took away the “good things” links, for now. I’ll freshen them up a bit and bring them back shortly.

The About Page is inspired by a post where I asked you all to ask me anything. And boy did you ever! Obviously I couldn’t (and didn’t want to) answer all the questions, but I picked a few of my favorites and answered them as best I could. If my blog traffic takes a downward turn I’ll know that I’ve either completely turned you off with my answers or I’ve told you everything and there’s nothing new you could possibly learn from me at this point. Ha! Ha?

Sweet little Mary drew me this picture on my birthday. We sat together out in the yard, me reading a magazine, her drawing beside me. I’d say things to her like, “You forgot eyeballs!” Or “where are everyone’s arms?” and she’d quickly add them in. Apparently this picture is all of us marching through the farmers’ market.

It’s funny when I look at this picture because I could probably pull an almost exact replica out of my stash of Emma’s early work. And I have to confess, poor second child that she is, I haven’t been saving much of Mary’s work. I feel like I’ve had this pathetic (internal) “yeah, yeah, I’ve seen those kind of drawing before. I’ll start saving them when they get better, kid!” kind of horrible attitude in my head.

But no more. I’m cherishing these sweet little drawings. Let the collection begin.

I have two things that I want to buy myself for my birthday. The first I got this morning–two sets of Moleskine journals–one set of thin notebook sized, the other a small pack of pocket-sized journals. In my old age, I find that I’m forgetting lots of things. I’ve always been a list-maker, a genetic trait I inherited from my mother. And I’ve been kind of ADD with my list notebook this year. I have about three going at the same time, I can usually only find one of them, which is the one I’m NOT looking for at the time. So I decided to consolidate into these moleskines, one-at-a-time.

The small journals are to stash in my back pocket. I’ve gotten in the habit of jotting down writing ideas or stories on scrap pieces of paper–a receipt, a piece of the girls’ (probably Mary’s) artwork that been tossed aside. And then, I lose them. Of course.

Or horror of horrors, send them down the library book return shoot. I had written a kind of personal, introspective note on a receipt, which I then tucked in the book I was reading and literally had to dive in after it up to my shoulder, as I saw the little tail of it slipping down the library book return. Phew.

So I think keeping my thoughts in my back pocket is a bit safer.

But no more. I’m cherishing these sweet little drawings. Let the collection begin.

So I think keeping my thoughts in my back pocket is a bit safer.

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family / home / life (in general) / LIVING WELL / MOTHERHOOD

the fog has lifted

What a week. We are all operating at about 85% healthy this morning. Which feels pretty darn good after the week we’ve had. Between the heat, being sick myself, and waking up each day to another child falling to the stomach flu/high fever, it’s been a tough one.

It’s funny, in the middle of a round of sickness, how you forget what normal is. You begin to wonder if you’ll ever put a real meal on the table or hang out a load of laundry or DO a load of laundry again. The daily visits to the swimming pool seem like they would require amazing feats of energy that you no longer have.

But a new day dawns.

This morning, I was actually up and outside before anyone else had managed to crawl into bed with me. Enough time to feed the kittens and notice that I’ll be picking my first tomato tomorrow, I believe.

The heat is gone, which changes my perspective on everything. I’m thankful for the break, for my healthy children, for the return to normal.

Mary came downstairs this morning in jeans, two tee shirts, a long sleeved shirt and her pink cowboy boots, begging for breakfast.

No, she’s not having fever chills.

That’s normal.

Happy weekend, everyone.

Find A Bushel and A Peck, Week 2, here.

But a new day dawns.

The heat is gone, which changes my perspective on everything. I’m thankful for the break, for my healthy children, for the return to normal.

Mary came downstairs this morning in jeans, two tee shirts, a long sleeved shirt and her pink cowboy boots, begging for breakfast.

No, she’s not having fever chills.

That’s normal.

Happy weekend, everyone.

Find A Bushel and A Peck, Week 2, here.

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Uncategorized

A child’s garden

Two weekends ago, I decided to take an overgrown mound of dirt in our side yard and turn it into a small garden for Emma and Mary. I’ve always had it on my mind to find a little green space for the girls to call their own, and this was the first year that it all came together. Gardening seems to come so naturally for children. Getting their hands (and feet, and faces and legs, and…) dirty, digging holes, picking up thick squirming earthworms, watching something grow and change.

Before we started I prepared myself that their garden enthusiasm would wax and wane. Emma was a gung-ho gardener at first–weeding, loading the wheelbarrow, spreading around the compost. While Mary flittered in and out of the scene–pick a weed. whine. pick a weed. swing. pick a weed. nap.

We hauled some rocks from a falling-down stone silo at the back of our property to edge the garden to keep it from getting mowed over. And that was enough for one day.

A few days later, I took the girls to our local feed mill to pick out flowers. First of all, this is a great time of year to get your annuals. Everything was half off and the selection wasn’t overwhelming. So for the procrastinating gardener like myself, it was perfection.

The picking flowers part was definitely a huge highlight. I gave the girls complete control. I simply pointed them in the direction of the full-sun flowers, gave them the number of pots to pick out, a cardboard lid, and sat back to watch. I didn’t care about color combinations, leaf varigations, coordination. It is their garden.

It was quite interesting to watch their decision making. They’d mix and match. Put things together, change their minds, try something new. Eventually they even grew confident enough to start asking the store’s gardener for advice. “Can this be in the sun?” “Is this done blooming?” “How tall will this be?” And finally they settled on a bundle of flowers to bring home. And it seems they both attended the same landscape design school, for they each came home with something in every color. We’ve got blues, purples, yellows, oranges, reds, whites, pinks.

Of course their mother tends to gravitate towards a little more simplicity, but it’s their garden. Not mine.

Now that we’ve moved from the planning and planting stage to the maintenance stage, interest is once again waning. I can get Emma to water here and there. Mary has completely moved on. And most of the upkeep is up to me. Which is fine. It was anticipated.

Although yesterday I gave emma a pair of clippers and taught her how to dead-head. She took to that with lots of enthusiasm. And then took all the spent blossoms, and continued to clip them over and over into tiny flakes of petals.

But enthusiasm or not. Interest today, or no more interest at all. There’s something good about little hands in warm soil and a small space of earth to call their own.

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Emails were sent out this morning and this afternoon to half of the book swappers who are in charge of first contact. If you don’t hear from me or your partner in the next few days, please be in touch!
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We hauled some rocks from a falling-down stone silo at the back of our property to edge the garden to keep it from getting mowed over. And that was enough for one day.

Of course their mother tends to gravitate towards a little more simplicity, but it’s their garden. Not mine.

But enthusiasm or not. Interest today, or no more interest at all. There’s something good about little hands in warm soil and a small space of earth to call their own.

17 Comments