Write, Mama. Write.

Toddler boot camp

Things are doggedly unsettled and so, of course, we've simultaneously entered Toddler Boot Camp.  We enjoyed a wonderful parenting class set-up awhile back, where the kiddos played in a delightful space with great supervision and the parents chatted in an attached room.  It was cost-prohibitive but nice.  The disequilibrium discussions there resonated, and I do believe moments of disequilibrium follow you from childhood through life.  Periods of calm rock-a-bye with spans of rockiness, skills and balance are attained and so the push and growth of a new journey begins.  Learning requires a degree of disequilibrium.  This is ever-present at two, and as a parent too.

I wear my teeth down in my sleep, periodically.  I'm supposed to use a bite guard, but lately I feel like I need to wear it all day long as I grit my teeth and steady myself for teachable moment #847 by 9 a.m.  It's all about who controls what, how much, where are the lines, when do they move, who gets to make the choice, is there a choice...  I'm exhausted.  Happy, lazy bath time is a cherry tomato face battle of epic proportions.  Nighttime hugs are withheld, with a smirk.  Two hours into our effort for nap I drudge to my bed and lay there.  It's a throwing, hitting, tantrum-y mess of days and nights here lately.  Out in the world he is the model of excellence in child behavior.  Delightful.  Charming.

I remind myself that this is exactly what he's supposed to do, albeit with more dramatic flair than one might generally muster.  This is exactly what I'm supposed to do too, to help him feel safe.  The other week when he ran to his room disgruntled and slammed the door (never, ever modeled, by the way), the moment should have come with lightening bolts of foreboding.  A teenager would keep the door closed for awhile and zone out to an iPod, but a two-and-a-half year old comes back with determined persistence.  So I grit, and admire the zeal if not the delivery.  Somewhere a thought trips along: the things you find especially annoying and trying are the things within you too. 

We stirred the beginnings of weekly banana bread yesterday and he looked up at me, chef's hat and apron poised just so, and said, "Me lub me Mama" for the very first time ever.  Swoon.  I keep defining the boundaries and he keeps pushing them and it's just beginning.  Maybe what my defined parameters need is something to toss them around a bit, for growth and all.  Toddler Boot Camp is, in any given moment, me doing the push-ups or me barking: "Lights out." 

I want a "frolic through the little daisy-covered meadows"-type of a picnic-y series of days, not a dust billowing, barbed wire, marching sort-of slop thing.  I'm all for a bit of compromise; we could march through the meadow, you know.  I'm ready for him to share a little lub.

Home days

Yesterday morning he said, "We havin' a home day." 

He also said:
Me really, really want a sister. 
Let's make waffles an' muffins an' banana bread an' pancakes an' cookies for breakfast. 
This whole room is me barn; come in me barn.

Sprouting

It's snowing as I write this, April 21st in the Pacific Northwest.  Disturbing.  And yet, things are growing too!  We put bean seeds on a damp paper towel in a Ziploc bag, and taped them to the window about a week and a half ago.  It's been such fun to see them change every day, and now we'll plant them in cups.  There have been some nice gardening/spring book lists out there lately, with most of our favorites mentioned numerous times.  With this "project" we really enjoyed One Bean by Rockwell, illustrated by Halsey.  Zinnia's Flower Garden by Wellington was a fun one too.

Other spring/planting favorites:
Roots, Shoots, Buckets & Boots by Lovejoy
Spring is Here by Lenski (so sweet, just like all of her books)
Growing Vegetable Soup by Ehlert

On our library list:
A Seed is Sleepy by Aston

Linguistic explorations, v2.5

He's just so stinkin' cute, I say under my breath to my mom and sister.

Off on the other side of the living room he startles a bit, glances up, looks a little thrown and mutters: Sometime me get a little, little poopy but sometime me NOT poopy.  No... 

I apologize after a pause... Oh, honey, I'm sorry.  'Stinkin' cute' is another way of saying really, really cute.  I didn't mean you're a stinky boy.

---
I'm off to run errands in the evening and Fun Time! With Daddy! Starts as soon as I LEAVE! so he says: Go, Mama!

We have the same ol' discussion at length about how even if you want someone to go it's not nice to tell them to Go! so you have to just wait, or say 'Bye, bye' in a nice way because otherwise it might hurt their feelings, yadda, yadda, tweedleedum, yadda...

So he says: Go now PLEASE, Mama.  And I do.

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I love this moment in time before "I" and "my."  It's me monkey, me gib you a hug, me want it, me a big, big, big boy and I think: You are so stinkin' cute.

Dinosaur home

Terrarium + Sculpey fossils

The latest extinction theory in our household involves overpopulation (this little Ball jar is tiny!) but the "fossils" will remain and multiply (someone thinks it would be fun to dig for them in the sandbox).

Maybe

"Maybe!" you sing-song, and it could mean "Maybe we should have a cookie for breakfast" or sometimes it really means "Maybe my idea is warranted and you shouldn't dismiss it offhand."  Maybe it is possible to track down that girl from the cover of the Pottery Barn Kids catalog, the cute one in the pretty dress whispering to a friend; she does look like a fun girl.  Maybe you could take Daddy and me on your blanket train, with an elephant conductor and a pathway through the livingroom, and maybe we really could end up on the moon.

You nod emphatically and gesture like you're running for office.  It is possible.  Surely.  We can do it.  Let's do it!  Maybe we can make everything the way you dream it... Now.  And then, when we're pumped! and we buy in! and you have us hooked! you sometimes say: "Maybe Not."  There are wistful shakes of your head for what could have been.  There are convincing frowns for what you told us we wanted, and then removed with your two year old chicanery.  Every sorrow comes with a twinkle in your eye for what you control, and a consolation prize of Dinner! Now! In your room! With everybody! 

You're learning to make everything the way you dream it. 

You help me see things differently.  "Maybe" is a whole world of negotiation, luck, whiplash and possibility.  It's contagious, this heady linguistic push of determination and promise.  Maybe Daddy could have his own design business and I could write a book, we could paint your new bedroom light blue and cuddle under your quilt together after a happy day of family puttering in our garden. 

Maybe.

What to do when Thomas doesn't cut it

You might think that, with our wheezing and coughing and general malaise, we've been lazing about sipping juice boxes and watching Thomas movies.  Oh no.  That was my idea of a good, sick time, which is actually a modified version of my "home sick alone" dream where I watch Murder She Wrote and drink tea and fall asleep for hours on the couch with my feet on the heating pad.  We drove to a movie place (don't you think those'll disappear soon?) and rented a train flick with the longest number of minutes I could find, trying not to breathe on anyone in the process.  Sometimes driving with the kiddo all strapped in listening to tunes is way easier than animating stuffed animals ("Make them TALK, Mama.  NOW.").  Anyhow, we snuggled in for trains, full-strength juice, a full embrace of the aforementioned malaise... How could we go wrong? 

I evidently have the one child, in the whole media-saturated world, who doesn't really like to watch TV.  I'm not complaining, because you can't really complain about that, right?  Thomas was a no go.  We're a TV in the closed cabinet family, surreptitiously watching old seasons (new to us!) of shows people have long since forgotten via Netflix.  I like a TV-free family life (aside from our every-so-
often Netflix dates) but when you're sick you just embrace the sickness, right?  I feel, somewhere deep in me, that sickness=fever=all-the-TV-you-want.  Doesn't a body need rest to heal?  I always thought TV was an irresistible force for preschoolers.  Nope. 

So what to do with endless hours upon hours (I think there were a few extra hours) of home-bound blah?  There are these things, of course, but most of those require a teeny bit of parental... effort.  The construction yard was more my fever-induced speed.  I saw this great idea on Mother Rising (second post down) but still haven't headed out for a shadow box or aquarium gravel.  Our largest baking pan and beans (intended for more bean bags) did the trick in a pinch.  Those white ones are boulders, obviously.

And lest you think we're just pushing the heavy machinery all day I should introduce you to Baby Doll.  He's an important part of our days lately.  Remember when I was looking for a good doll pattern?  Long story short, it turns out my mom saved dolls her cousin made for my sister and me.  We now have a beautiful doll to feed and burp and comfort and dress.  Check out his awesome hair!  It was pretty funny to look through the clothes because I have such a distinct memory of the coat snaps (horseshoes for horse lover me), the coverall fabrics, the strawberry shirt...  The boy named his boy Baby Doll, and sometimes he forgets that you shouldn't throw babies.  I am so relieved he finally has a nice little doll, and checked that one off my list for now without lifting a finger.  Add the nice vintage quilt top I found the other day and my "handmade while the sewing machine is out of commission" efforts are way more fruitful than my normal accomplishments. 

In conclusion: no TV for us, heavy machinery rocks and Baby Doll is our new bud.

How it goes: painting

Yep, it's OK to mash the brush a little like that.
Paint gets on clothes... That's no problem.
Sure!  Try it. 
What happens if you mix the water colors and the tempera?
We can wipe it up later.
What happens if you mix the yellow and the blue?
Two brushes at a time is A-OK.
Yes.
Go for it.
It is fun, isn't it?

Happy day!

Sights: Eggs abound, throughout the breezeway.  Buttoned shirts and bunny ears.

Sounds: Family laughter, running steps when he spots something bright. 

Little orange agate of an adventure

Picture our 700 square foot home awash in the smell of boiling cabbage.  Nope, we're not full o' Irish... Just trying to make natural egg dyes as the cumin tea cup boils over in the microwave.  Add the several day old mystery pee spot (where IS it?) in the boy's room (because the tub won't drain and he waited far too long without a diaper for that bath) and you get one stinky house.  This was the state of things when the hope of our back-up house love, complete with playroom and double lot potential garden space, died via the phone last week.  Whenever another viewing, offer, or online house match-up failed we always had our never-ending short sale dream.  Then it ended (We strung you along so long the market picked up and now we think we can get ever so much more for it!).  This weekend my sewing machine died; I can't find a pulse.  It's just been stinky and sorta blah around here.

The boy gets totally behind any suggestion of a plan though: "Yets DO IT!" ("Let's...", fists pumping air).  He jumps all over everything (our coffee spills on the couch) and it's decided we must salvage our weekend, leave three piles of laundry on the Morris chair and have an adventure.  A ferry adventure. 

The captain surely wasn't the captain because he wasn't wearing a cap.  On the return trip three painters, two life-vest-wearin' ferry workers and a priest walked through the cabin door, in succession, and we readied ourselves for a cosmic joke.  A train wound it's way through our island views (LOUD!) and we threw pebbles on the beach.  The boy found an little, orange agate.

The cosmic joke, of course, is how your house can stink, your sewing machine can die alongside home dreams, luck can fritz out a bit and life is still fully beautiful.

Spread a little awe

I left early for pilates last night and stopped by the thrift store first.  There's this weird thing I get where I'll be dying to "get away" and then when I'm away I always miss my guys quite a bit.  (It makes me impatient with myself.)  Anyhow, I'm always finely tuned into kids when I'm out.  There were children everywhere in this shop, one crawling alone in a corner mouthing a ball as he pushed it along.  One in the toy aisle with an electronic book.  Two in carts trying to escape while their parents held conference calls on speaker phone through their head sets.  One kid was touching things from his seat in the cart (just like his mother was) and she kept screaming at him.  I won't repeat it all but he was referred to with, as my boy would say, a "poop"-related word.  He was just about the age of my little guy.

So it all just made me sad.  I wanted to tell the woman that the kid had better taste than she did, in what he was grabbing.  I want all of the cell phones gone and TVs off, whenever the kids are around.  I want to turn the people talking about how rotten their children are so their faces look at the child watching and listening down at their feet.  Obviously I'm living in the lap of parental luxury to escape in the early evening to something just for me while my husband takes care of the boy.  I don't want to be a judgmental jerk.  I know it's exhausting and kids can push your buttons like nothing else and I have times when I'm stuck inside reading 'The Little People Busy Town' flap book for the 100th time in a week and I'm just moaning a bit in my head. 

But, also, these kids are so absolutely amazing.  It's incredible what a child can do with just two years in the world.  The fact that they know how to push your buttons, when they were recently so utterly helpless, is astonishing to me.  Two is so much fun.  We get up in the morning and make smoothies together and run to watch the recycling truck out the front door ("Up, up, up wih da arm on da truck, Mama!").  I consider red saltwater sandals because if he's decked out in orange all the time ("ORAN! ORAN!"-- 24/7 color love for "ORAN!"), I could definitely use a splash of color too this summer.  He's so full of passion and excitement and energy and determination; it spreads to everything.  He shares it all with me and it seems to get more miraculous the older they get.  That kid we met months back who wasn't walking?-- Listen to him sing the "ABC's" now, while he runs!  The little one who was a cooing baby when we met?-- Using the big girl potty like it's no big deal.  It's a big deal!  I watch children we saw tucked away in a sling what seems like just yesterday fly down the big slide at the playground and I'm so filled with wonder and excitement every time.  Look at what they can do!  Did you see that?! 

Last night I wanted to ameliorate the sadness by spreading a little of that wonder everywhere.

What-ta doin', Mama?

If it's not "What-ta doin', Mama?" it's "What-ta doin' now?"  Or, after it's been discussed ad nauseum ("I'm still driving the car, Kiddo...") it's "Wheahr is it here?" ("Downtown")... "Wheahr in downtown?  What by?"  It is so thrilling to be at this stage and justalittlebiteversoslighlty annoying.  Also on the linguistic front he decided one day to (more often than not) call me "Mommy" and I'm not sure how I feel about that.  Um... I have a blog, Little One, that clearly says I'm the "Mama."  He secures his drama department hand-me-down to the tripod and click-click-clicks his way quite seriously through our day, documenting everything at a macro level (as in, camera to object: click).  Pencil to paper he writes a bit "A-B-LMNAZP-O-O" and declares we need "MEAT" at the store and it's top on our shopping list with "GUM" (two things we don't buy at the store, I might add).

He puts his slippers on by himself, moves the bar to the sliding door and slips out into the night to look for the moon.  Running back after inching away as far as we let him into the black he yells, "I don see da moon.  I see STAR an STAR an STAR!"  He insists on helping make the bed, make the coffee, make our day in his vision and suddenly he calms enough now to snuggle in the covers in the early morning with me, which he has never, ever done (from his gymnastic in utero tumbling to two, he hasn't slowed down much for a cuddly quiet moment).  We can lay there after the moon goes and watch the sun come up through the trees.  We talk about how the fog makes things look different and how we dreamed in the night.  I thought, when I looked at him as he was first greeting the world, that I loved him with everything; now I realize that my love grows, somehow, with every little thing I learn about who he is and who he wants to be and who he will be someday. 

 

Big barn

Little boy.

Great, sunny weekend, made some bibs, parenting is tough and fun

We've had the most beautiful run of days, full of blue skies chased by an occasional sprinkle.  Things just seem lighter with windows cracked open and finger nails dirty from tending outdoor beds.  Driver, buff (plastic) arms doing the heavy lifting, navigates the dump truck from pile to pile outside (two year old providing true muscle).  We stomp in little puddles and our hippo umbrella tries to take to the skies.  A beautiful rainbow arched over the town yesterday and the boy couldn't quite see it.  We tried to show him.  We pulled over to show him.  We had to settle for rainbows in books though, which weren't half bad.  When your eyes aren't used to looking for something it can be difficult to see, even when it arches over you and encompasses your living space and lightens moods.  Spring is creeping in just like that.      

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I knocked out bib after bib after bib this weekend, orange for the boy and stripes for others.  I think our fabric bib lifespan is one year in this household.  It seems silly to make new bibs for this big, big boy just like it seemed ridiculous to buy a new diaper pail when our old one failed.  Then again, we still spill, we're still in the diaper phase and everything happens at a different pace for different people.  After a stretch of ease I'm a bit startled at the whole comparison thing popping up again.  You know how, when they're babies, everyone has an opinion or a glance or a question about what a child can and should do at any given time?  After they turned one it felt like people settled down.  I know I did.  There weren't as many mental milestones to tick off and well-child visits even spread out to two a year.  Since this second birthday I've noticed a gradual increase in the opinions or glances or questions.  There's an increase in comparisons and even, ever so slightly, in my doubts.  Now it's preschool and potty training and how much independence versus how much togetherness and how in the world does this all work when I don't really know what I'm doing? sprouting up again.  There are hard forehead bonks, tough negotiations, there's letting go and holding tight.  It's that parenting dance, making me dizzy, tossing me around with my head back laughing.  I remember a parent telling me first grade was going to make or break their child's chance at Harvard, and I remember my inner teacher reaction (something like: Oh my goodness!-- Chill out... They're six).  I want to remain very confident in my belief that we have the ingredients for raising a happy little boy.  We have puddle jumping, dirty fingernails, rainbows in books and our dizzy dance of give and take.  Oh my goodness!... He's two.

Somehow that little update all boils down to: Great, sunny weekend... Made some bibs... Parenting is tough and fun...

Much better

Preschoolers & political candidates

It is now standard practice for our three foot+ family member to pop into his room and start clapping.  I hear the clapping and I'm trained to automatically start clapping too.  It transitions to "wild" cheers as our little racer bursts from the room and speeds around the house in complete circles, slowing as he nears to bask in the adulation.  This past week the local public radio station has replayed candidate speeches from recent NW visits.  As I listened, similarities hit me (repeatedly); there are striking parallels between preschoolers and political candidates. 

There's the whole "We love puppies" phenomenon.  A lot of speeches can be broken down into candidates forcefully declaring their appreciation and dedication to things everyone seems to agree about.  We all want respect for veterans.  We'd love to have more money to use for our families.  We think education is important.  You know, "We love _____ (strong economies, little kids, America... puppies)".  It's the same with toddlers.  It's easy to get behind affection for trains, animals, cookies and playgrounds.  Preschoolers have classic loves that can cross a divide.  Hey, they love puppies too.

At some point in the speeches it's always clear the audience is riled up to such a degree that anything the candidate says will be met with enthusiasm.  These local pre-caucus/pre-primary stump speech attendees make for a friendly audience.  The speech ball starts to roll and you're confident the audience will roll anywhere, as long as it's to "change" or "experience" or our personal reduction of basic hope embodied in the process.  You stick with a preschooler too, through the convoluted explanations that carry you from dawn 'til bedtime.  You'll roll with them anywhere.  You believe in their essence.  You're a friendly audience to their passion or their skill, to their bid for what's to come.

Preschoolers and political candidates embrace extreme energy.  Teams of people tag along to help in any way possible.  There's lots of passion, cheering, confusion in "process"... Simultaneously in the parent/voter there's a slight fear of power, and the realization that to some degree or another you are complicit in giving some of that power.  There are moments of disequilibrium when your messages aren't the same.  There are factors in decision-making you won't understand (the importance of obscure special interests from mid-west farmer associations or the importance of wearing just the right color and weight of socks with just the right pair of boots before hitting the trike, rocks in hand).  Their running is full of our dreams.

The differences abound, of course, but that collective appreciation of what is possible for a country or a child whips up some mighty fine energy.  It's enough to get me huddled in a hot and stinky gym on a Saturday caucus afternoon, with all of the neighbors I've never met.  It's enough to get me off the couch to chase the racing boy for a hug. 

As the country gets ready for a big playoff with big payoffs and as my guy grows, I've discovered there's a democratic existence here at home.  I'm campaigning for our future one preschool day at a time.       

Happy Valentine's Day

'Cat'aloguing the developments, or lack thereof

We have stacks of wood on shelving between our house and the shed.  It's all under a roof, it's not ours (ahem) and it's on the other side of the wall from our bed's headboard.  This weekend all of the cats in the neighborhood, stray or no, decided it was a cat version of a Japanese love motel, lumberyard theme.  All through the night for two nights I ran outside hissing, water bottle as my spray defense, wielding a flashlight and just knowing there'd be a full-on attack.  Cats vs. me.  Terror.  Nobody appreciated my thoughts on how catastrophic the situation was and how catatonic we were after the lack of sleep.

Perhaps the lack of sleep led us to our inane, misguided attempts to get out and about.  It's a good thing we had breakfast on Saturday morning because it was downhill from there.  I think the house wait is this heavy cloud over us.  It settles over us adults, who unwittingly share it with the kiddo in little bits of worry and excitement and nervousness and frustration seeping through cracks.  It's complicated, but the essence of it all is that we don't know if we get to buy the house or not (still) and then, even if (pleaseohplease) it happens we don't know when we'll close because the bank (owner) has to have a little work done before closing.  There's nothing else.  We've been looking since October.  Our lease is up soon.  A 700 square foot rental in the winter with a busy two year old doesn't work well. 

It's the not knowing.  If I could mentally move on or mentally move in fully it would be fine.  I know it's a pretty good problem to have as far as problems go.  Moving is one of the most stressful life events though, according to those lists, and Not Knowing about Moving has got to be up there too.

Stinkarellibooboo, Kiddo, Sweet Boy, Wild Child or Stinkarelli (he actually smells quite nice) is a little wonder these days.  Last week we headed off to toddler gym to try it out only to find he's in KINDERgym now.  Last week he and I went to a preschool fair, just because I like to research and even if it's a long time coming (it is) I want to know what the options are.  Last week he "Ah-ah-ah'd" me.  When he was little, little he totally disregarded "No" so we developed a little "Ah-ah" sound that made him look and did the same thing without that word.  Now, along with telling me how to fix my hair, he "Ah-ah-ah'd" me. 

He knows what he wants to wear, where he wants to get dressed, precisely what we should do once we are dressed...  He thrills with talk of cookies, reading and adventure.  He yells, "Happy Birthday, Everyone!" all the time (quite randomly, with approximately seven extra syllables).  Last night our little "Goodnight Moon" routine where Daddy reads "Goodnight light and the red balloon" and then I echo "Goodnight light and the red balloon," etc., etc. was utterly different with Daddy reading and the boy echoing and tears of "Ohmygoodness... He's in Kindergym, someday he'll go to school, he's so capable-happiness" in my eyes.  He's growing up, so fine.

I just said we couldn't bring one of his toys with us to the Children's Museum.  He immediately yelled, "Hey, Dada!!" and then quickly realized Daddy was at work.  He ran off, rustled through every toy in his room and came back in with a toy phone held up to his ear.  Daddy evidently says it's OK to bring it to the Children's Museum and work is going well.

They're not all in the basket (phew!)

Oh, right.  So Kayte asked what the other wooden things were in the muffin tin: trees!  I think acorns are spreading across the country since this post, but I held off until Molly shared this incredible idea.  I used Christmas money to buy the acorns and eggs (which have been far more fun than I ever thought possible), and added the trees because I'd seen them here (wow!) and thought they'd round out our play.  It's so fun to have a mini-forest.  The eggs and trees are big enough so we don't have to tuck them away when little visitors come.  This all reminded me that I don't think I ever shared our nuts & bolts & keys & locks & stuff box.

It's a little depleted at the moment as things tend to migrate, but you get the idea.  We have lots more nuts and bolts-type items to round it out so there are parts you can move, put together, take apart, etc.  I made this for our summer trip when we stayed in a different house for a week or so.  It's so portable but also keeps a two-year-old's attention for a long time (at least our little two year old).  We line keys up by size, figure out which parts work with others...  You can also string keys.  I think I got the box at a craft store but I saw one in a hardware-type store recently for less ($3?).  Cases like this are nice as kids grow because they support those desires to collect/sort/categorize.  Our guy stopped putting things in his mouth at the baby stage but even still this is always an activity box we do together or with me watching close by (for safety).

I've had a post halfway written referencing the snow day we had on Monday.  Every day I change the words (from "today," to "yesterday," to "a couple of days ago...").  Pretty soon it's going to start, "Last week..." and I'll think "what's the point?" and delete it.  I'm defeated/depleted and I've decided it's because there's been very little time to do anything by/for myself lately.  Very, very little.  Do you ever run into this?  Especially with young children how do you (or did you) make time to get away and/or have creative outlets?  I have stacks of ideas to sew, to write, to create and I'd truly love to read a bit.  Barring a babysitter (we can't afford that and I'm so not ready for someone I don't know to watch the boy) how does it happen?  Our situation is complicated by the lack of space so I can't just go to another room and close the door (well, I could but it certainly wouldn't be effective).  I know I'm a better mama when I have a little time to "fill up," but I certainly haven't learned how to do that yet (effectively).  From 7 to 7/8ish there's a one hour nap to do freelance work, cleaning, etc.  After 7/8 there are dishes, getting ready for the following day and such, and I'm so tired.  I really don't want to start sewing at 9 or 10 because then I make stupid mistakes.  A big part of me always feels like I should take care of most of the household things because I'm the one here all day and it just makes sense.  Another part of me feels like because I'm here all day I never get away from the work part of it.  I think I need to do a better job of compartmentalizing or something.  I need little spaces for creativity instead of nuts and bolts.

Entertained, in spite of the rain

Muffin tins are fun.

Yesterday

Lots of art.

Reading, reading.  More stories.  More!

Giving up a little on the waiting game.

A bad cold.

A nap.

Baking together, eating together (scones are nice).

A long walk up a hill, twice, in the cold.

(Valentine ideas over here, just in case you missed them.)

He's got mail

Valentines for us, though we've already played with them because you can't wait weeks for fun like this.  I saw the little mailboxes in the Target $1 section and thought they'd be fun.  We're just on the cusp of mailing drawings to each other, I think, so I thought this would be fun for us to get excited about the whole "mail" idea.  There's Peltex/Timtex in between and I was going to use ric-rac for the stamps but then decided it would be too tedious.  I had this "print on fabric" stuff I'd wanted to try but next time I'd just use fabric markers and I think they'd look cooler and less "adult." 

The stamp images are from Michelle's French stamps.  We've known all of the letters for awhile now, and the boy can read his name so I think the teacher part of me thought this would help him start to identify other names (family members).  The stamps and names attach with iron-on Velcro so you can decide who gets mail.  I think it's working!  The process of learning to read and to appreciate exchange (of knowledge, love, art, words, ideas) through text is so utterly amazing.

Oh, and I meant to add that I did a little "spring" bookmark cleaning and updated the Create, Eat & Play categories on the sidebar (and some of the deeper links within that Create & Play categories).  I don't know if anyone ever goes there (I've forbidden myself from ever looking at any sort of visitor data so never have a clue) but there are some really good links and it totally appeals to my inner librarian.

Now we really are clapping because it snowed

The slow cooker lid rattles quietly as our stew dinner cooks.  Massive tubular mailers from Daddy's work (into the wee hours) sit tidy in the corner of the living room, knocked down from their morning house and waiting for afternoon ramps.  The pine tree outside our kitchen window rains drips as the temperature rises.  Mittens, shoes and coats dry in the entry.  Coffee's on. 

I love nap time.

We're hunkering down a bit today, not unlike our parsley.

Footwear, frustration and little somethings beyond

You are wonderful!  Thank you so much for your great suggestions.  The original title of this post was something like "Horrid Crafty Vortex, Footwear Edition," so that gives you an idea of the vibes around here.  We're going through a growth spurt, frustration fountain, tantrum explosion... Couple change/ disequilibrium words with words that evoke eruption and you have our descriptive phrase of the moment.  So I'm just mentally drained and then, throw in a spot of limitless dreaming, and we have a little post-holiday stew of AAAHHHH!  (I'm, We're, It's) Really sorta unpleasant at times. 

I needed a shot of something better and my hopes weren't crazy big, just a little something to look forward to beyond our daily AAAHHHH.  Boy, did you ever deliver!  You all are crazy knowledgeable with the kid music, I'm telling you.  And you get it, you know?  No bad synthesizer, preschool kid pop tunes for this crowd.  I'm emailing everyone back ASAP (insert minor change/disequilibrium + eruption phrase as excuse for my delay here) but I thank you in advance for your excellent recommendations.  With the exception of about three discs ALL of those songs/discs mentioned were in at the library so my hold list is out of this world and I have a little something to look forward to!  I'll do a little test listen with those before I purchase.  Picture the boy and I clapping like it just started to snow. 

Also, I've got a game plan for the doll.  I'll fill you in as I go, but the boy and I have an ambitious, three-part plan.  Flour... Well, Mom's disappointed.  It's this great multigrain blend to fall in love with, and I think for now I'll just start working my way through the coop flour offerings.  I do like the King Arthur.

Footwear, the bad: The Mary Janes are so, so wrong but in the light of day I've decided I learned a thing or two in the process.  I just knew how it was supposed go, you know, and it didn't.  I've sat here sad tonight, thinking of how many times I said, "Use your words" with the boy.  That would be, I suppose, like someone saying, "Use your sewing skills."  I do believe it might just make me livid with frustration when said in the midst of trying so hard to get something so right (when I know what it's supposed to look like... Just like when he knows what he wants me to understand). 

In good news on the footwear front: Mom found my old cowboy boots (I distinctly remember putting them on while lying on my back and having one fall and hit me with the tip on the nose) and I found these little black boots below, just like the ones on the farm.  Everybody needs barn, cowboy and ladybug boots, right?  If all else fails we can skip around in boots and dream of summer and cowboys, new dolls and better times.

Also good:
- 800+ FFF comments on the SMS blog this weekend... Very cool.
- One of our big someday dreams, where we live on acreage with a studio and work from home, includes a letterpress.  ReadyMade had a "Make Your Own Letterpress" article (press construction instructions are in the current issue).  I found it last night and darn it if I couldn't sleep until 2 a.m. with excitement.  I know it's not real-real, but it's $100 real as opposed to $5000 real and we can have a letterpress.  Someday dreams don't always have to happen in big chunks.
- Homemade biscotti recipe.  Yum.

Vegas is a zoo (or, What to pack for a toddler on a trip)

That was wild!  Early on I decided there's plenty of drinking, gambling and, um, skin in Vegas so the really unique and amazing sight to see was our little toddler!  He perfected his aversion and coyness skills and had a blast.  Everyone was really very kind and accommodating, we saw lots of amazing things and we had fun.  Really.  More about all of that to come but for today here's my (oh, wait... The boy's) new bag.  I don't think he actually carried it once, but I had about an hour and a half the night before we left and he needed a carry on for his first flight.  Actually I've been thinking of this bag since our summer vacation and wasn't going to let this opportunity pass (who knows when we'll ever have another trip!). 

The boy picked the zoo fabric out from the growing collection under the bed.  It's lined in red with orange on the straps (thanks to you, Trina!).  I used a thin batting in the middle with a little Peltex on the bottom for stability.  With no time for measurements I was really happy that it actually worked.  I was going to use iron-on Velcro but the messenger-style flap was big enough to keep it all in and it worked great throughout the trip. 

I said I was going to write a list of toddler traveling delights last time and forgot.  These were all really successful items for a trip with a two year old and they all fit in the zoo bag:

• tape
• solar calculator
• sticky notes
• star-shaped hole punch
• clothespin doll kit
• kaleidoscope
• lots o' snacks
• coloring books with stickers
• water bottle
• index cards
• washable crayons
• washable markers
• books
• drawstring bags with little toys
• finger puppets
• wind-up car with track

I was worried about the time we'd spend in the hotel room but the selection of things we brought with us worked out great.  I found a little wooden set of farm animals with a barn and tractor and whipped up a little drawstring bag for those before we left.  At the same discount store I found a little Manhattan Toy Co. Take & Play Neighborhood fold-out kitchen & garage (little, with people you can play with).  The whole idea was open-ended play (well, I guess it always is around here...).  We brought two of our favorite Richard Scarry books (lots to talk about with those) and two compilation books (If You Give a... stories and Curious George stories).  Including a dollar store visit I spent under $25 for a great selection of things that kept us busy for many, many hours at the airport, on the plane and in the hotel room.

I am so glad to be home.

This hodge-podge is...

A clothespin doll kit, airplane (and/or hotel room) version.  We'll see if it works!  We're off, we're taking all of your wonderful suggestions and I'm sure there will be plenty to report when we return (the sights of Vegas from a two-year-old's perspective!).

Click, blur

I took the boy to Sears yesterday to get his late two year old birthday picture.  They were blurry, of course, because it's Sears, but I just can't get my head out of the place where you should go get a "portrait" taken of a little one when they're little... Even though this kid has had thousands of pictures taken of him and his cuteness is well documented and the photos I take aren't usually blurry.  There's no way I could justify money for a "real" photographer (apologies to the one or two serious Sears clickers out there).  Somehow it's on my "Good Mama" checklist.  Check.  Anyhow, I was watching him standing like a big kid on the backdrop; he was engaged as all get-out with the cute clicker and her "Aaa-choo"/oh-no-the-bear-is-
falling-off-my-head shtick.  Last year it was just a little too dangerous for him to sit on the big chair by himself and this year he sat up on his knees, propped his elbows on the back and grinned.  Two years ago I thought I was going to die with the crowds and the stress and the oh-no-he-needs-to-be-fed IN the studio RIGHT now and I am so not a breast-in-public person.  Just like that he's growing up.

We came home, had lunch, read our stories and tucked in for naptime with Elephant.  I sat and watched the squirrels run on the fence.  The clouds raced.  It's happening so fast and it's getting better and better all the time.  I'm so glad life has changed in a way that helps me appreciate the everyday moments more.  Or maybe I'm changing and growing up too.
   
This photo's blurry and mine but I like it.   

Happy holiday wishes

I'm not going to post again until I've sewn something.  I don't know if it's a carrot or a stick deal, but I like to make crazy arrangements with myself.  We'll all be home together for the next few days and I'm hoping for a few quiet hours with my little sewing machine.  I'm also hoping for no dry rot, termites or any of the other millions of crazy bad scenarios I've dreamed up for our home inspection on Wednesday (hurdle number eight, I think).  There are at least ten until we can own the place. 

The boy's in bed and the house is quiet.  In this moment I feel fully content.  Will I sew before Thanksgiving?  I'd better wish you a very happy holiday now, just in case.  My hope for you in the upcoming days: family, beginnings, remembrances, contentedness.  I was looking for a good picture to send with holiday cards and so many of the boy now are of him heading out, exploring the world but staying just close enough.  Aware.  Interested.  Exuberant.  Experimental.  Happy and bright.  I wish those things for all of us.   

Swimming along

Thanks for making me laugh and smile.  We had pie of the pizza variety last night and then I went to sleep early.  This morning, while the laundry covered the couch and many little life details were buried we frolicked in the fall.  In the rain.  I always feel slightly... ashamed? to go "bleh" on the blog and I've been struggling with this space lately.  The "bleh" and the comments and something I read this morning, along with that slightly amusing hoopla with the yarnstorm book recently all came together this morning and helped me clarify things a bit.  That's a very good thing.  So, more on that some time.  This morning we looked up to admire moss and I looked down to admire my little ladybug.  All around us we heard the splashing of salmon fighting their way upstream.

We touched a rainbow