Henry blows me away. He comes home from vision therapy, (where he goes immediately after school) and he starts drawing or cutting snowflakes or making laptops. For his latest Mac. creation he included a c.d component. He also made a hip hop c.d and a "rokn roel" (rock n roll ) c.d. That's my boy.
And that is my marshmallow. Ack. Don't get me wrong, it is yummy but I have been making enough candy to lose a limb. The best part of making brittle is stabbing the loaf of sugar and nutmeats with a knife. Awesome therapy for any tension you may have. Maybe I need another few loaves?
Please excuse the ugly pictures in this post. It is nearly dark at 3:30.
From Anna Maria Horner's 'Seams to Me', the adorable pin cushion caddy!
Okay, so don't scrutinize, my fusible webbing was not fusing very well. My sewing machine is a pain. It works until about 1/4 of the way through a project and then it gets fussy. Until I am sewing every day, which may never happen, it will do. I love this pin cushion, its big, bold and made of some of my favorite Denyse Schmidt prints. It is something that I would love to make for myself if I am ever finished making things for everyone else.
Sometimes, I think parenting is a bit like being an explorer. No matter how many "maps" or information you have about this new "culture" or "world", you are a bit lost and learning everything as if for the first time in history. It starts with labor. Just like Tina said "Labor, what the hell was that?" or something to that effect.
Yesterday was a really great day: I got something on my list done, I got out by myself, kids played outside in a brief amt. of sunshine and played inside a lot with friends, had pizza and a movie with one friend each, while I cooked with my friend Sunita and drank a bottle of wine with her (I had two glasses). Last night, not so good. Ez did not want to go to bed. With hindsight I realized that maybe I should have just sat up with him and read him a book like I have done in the past but then would he expect that every time? I had to record some reality shows for Matt at 8, because he was at Johnny's play. So, I wanted to get the kid to bed. He was not having it. Then he wanted a drink. I let him have one but reminded him that if he drank too much he might wet the bed. Well, that thought stayed with him and at 2 in the morning he was wailing about me wetting the bed. He insisted, in his soporific yet angry state that I should pee, right now. Eventually I relented, at this point I was wide awake and had to go anyway and really, I just wanted him to be quiet. It did not end there. Apparently I turned on the wrong light in the bathroom. A half hour later I have finally calmed him down by talking about nocturnal animals. Raccoons in the garbage cans outside, gentle little vampire bats nibbling at cows legs, he likes that kind of stuff. A few hours later he wakes up crying and demanding I scratch his back.
Who is this guy? What is going on? At some point in the year we plan to get him back to his own bed all night but we put that off because this year has presented so many major changes for him: preschool, weaning, sleeping in his own bed part of the night...Sometimes I am at a complete loss. And tired. And to make it worse, Matt and I don't really agree on what to do in these situations.
It is sunny today though. And Saturday. Santa is coming to the community center and I am about to finish another project.
Sometimes when I feel really busy, I want to just sleep or procrastinate. Procrastinate as in discovering my true hobbit name online: Lila Bumbleroot of Fair downs, and the names of my husband and sons: Fredagar, Minto and Gorbulas Maggot. Oh internet, you ruin me.
Annie and Asher had their baby Imri. At least we think that is his name. That little 7 lb. wonder sure took his time! 2 weeks and one day late! Welcome to Imri and congratulations to Asher and Annie. We can't wait to meet the little man.
I am in the depths of seasonal affective disorder. I am having trouble blogging about anything. Not true. I could complain. But I would have to change the title of my blog. My kids are fighting constantly, fighting. It is so dark so early. My apt. is miniscule. Enough already. Here are some cozy food pictures.
Root veggies for roasting clementines and apples... grandma and grandpas' butternut squash Matt's banana bread of which have eaten my weight
Check this out. Molly starred in a film that her friend, Colin, a student at R.I.S.D, made last year. Apparently, it is getting some recognition and they are going to NYC to some festival or whatnot. Her boyfriend Noah, wrote and performed the sdtrk.
1998 or 1999, Tina and I are walking up the hill to work out or go to dance class, did we have dance together? Probably not because I can't really dance but I tried anyway and Tina is graceful and aware of all of her body parts and how they work, anyway we are walking and discussing our future DAUGHTERS, mine Louisa and hers, Talullah and how they will be friends or maybe I will have a girl and she will have a boy and they will get married, I don't think we considered how our daughters might want to get married maybe we did. But we both had sons anyway.
Because there are no grapevines, close ups of the white caps on the lake, nor cornfields, this is an imperfect representation of the finger lakes in late November. Thankfully, I did not spend my weekend with a camera. Now I am trying to ease myself back into the swing, which is not an easy task during the holidays.
We are trying to figure out how to move back home. It's difficult. We like the Pioneer valley so much. The schools are pretty well funded, diverse culturally and socioeconomically. The valley is well known for it's large writer/artist population. We have jobs here, although the security of them is not super tight. Our insurance through the university is fabulous.
There is something to be said for having a "place" that is separate from where you grew up and where many of your people live. I can't explain it. It somehow makes one feel grown up and interesting. And yet, "home" for us still means the Finger lakes. I walk into my parent's house or my in-laws and I sigh inside. Suddenly there are 3-4 or maybe more, extra people to help me with my children. All of a sudden, we are not the only ones in charge. We have acommon history. We are understood, our jokes are funny for the right reason. The cornfields are there, the lake. Pie. My dad's ridiculous puns that require 5 minutes of brain activity to make sense of. My mom's patience and endless supply of craft supplies. Sharon's baked goods and patience. Paul's habit of calling everyone under the age of 60 "kid". Quakers. Pie.