The Real Reason

Blogging has been a rare activity for me over the last few months, and I blame this young lady entirely:

Yes, it's true! We have another girl on the way. She should be here by mid-October. I'll have to come up with a better blog title than "my daughter" for our oldest child now.

The first trimester was a most unproductive time for me, aside from growing a healthy baby, of course. Thus the lack of blogging. If you could have seen my house, you would know that it was an unproductive time for cleaning and house projects of any kind as well. Now we're well into the second trimester, morning sickness has subsided, energy has returned, the weather is brighter and warmer, and we know the baby's gender, so...it's time to get ready! We are very excited.

There's No Place Like Home

Heidi has a post up about her love for Kansas. It makes my heart ache. I miss the Midwest! And she's right, the beauty there is very different than the beauty elsewhere. Here in the Pacific Northwest, which is known for its natural beauty, we have stunning views of majestic mountains, open water, islands, and magnificent forests. Even the cityscapes are attractive. It seems that our early city planners and builders took great care in incorporating urban development into the idyllic natural setting. (They did not take such great care in planning traffic flow through and around those urban developments, but hey...you win some, you lose some.) It's beautiful here.


But the Midwest...oh, I just miss it. So calm and peaceful, so untouched compared to our country's coastlines. I think my favorite part of Heidi's pictures is the gravel road (or driveway). It brought back so many memories - trivial memories, really, just nostalgia, but somehow still so powerful. I remember that we had to drive with the windows up over gravel roads on dry days, because the dust was too overwhelming to drive with the windows down. And if we encountered another car approaching a bridge on a gravel road, we had to pull over, because only one car could cross at a time. And drivers waved to other drivers on gravel roads, no matter whether they knew each other. Paved country roads were called blacktops, to differentiate them from the gravel roads. I lived on the Thompsonville blacktop.


We grew tomatoes and corn fit for kings. We took wild roses and blackberries for granted. We breathed thick honeysuckle air all summer long (and now I find honeysuckle-scented products in bath product stores! Who knew anyone would try to bottle it?). We heard bullfrogs and crickets and owls all night. We tried to get the mockingbirds to imitate our own calls, unsuccessfully of course. And I didn't think about any of these things until I had left them behind.

Am I romanticizing life in the Midwest? Of course. It's where I grew up. It's a very nostalgic place for me. It is full of memories of the simplicity of childhood, of not having a schedule, of having few responsibilities and worries. Most people, I think, look back on their childhoods in this way. I just happened to leave the Midwest right before I left childhood, so my yearning for the one is muddled by nostalgia for the other. But I still miss it.

Thanks, Heidi, for the memories!

Before You Wake

http://www.axpdf.com/wake/index.htm

My brother in Iraq sent this link. Please remember our military men and women in your prayers.

Such A Good Day

Today really was a good day. So many little things happened that just made it good. After going back and forth for weeks about whether we would be able to make it to an upcoming retreat, tonight we received confirmation that we would indeed be able to attend. We found a great deal on a bunch of gifts that will cover the majority of our daughter's friends' birthdays this summer. We're all sick - I know that doesn't sound good, but there were good moments. My daughter played contentedly by herself while I rested on the sofa for quite a while. Even the times when she wanted my attention were good. Twice she asked to climb up and snuggle with me, which was so sweet. Once she woke me up by rushing into the living room with a pom-pom and shaking it with all her might directly in my face. Shocking and a bit frightening, but so cute. Another time she woke me up by coming quietly up and sticking a thermometer in my mouth. I'm sick, you know, so she had to take my temperature. She calls thermometers "fevers". I guess she has heard the word fever associated with thermometers so often that she just thinks that's what they are called. It may not help that I just taught her that the "clock" in the refrigerator is actually a thermometer. It looks nothing like a "fever". Anyway. Let me tell you, you wake up fast when a two year old sticks a thermometer in your mouth.

I hope you had a good day as well. Minus the sickness, of course.

My Cave Explorer

Quite some time ago, when my daughter had just learned to walk, I picked up a set of Childcraft How & Why books at a garage sale. I had no expectations of my daughter being interested in them for several years, but my siblings and I had a set of children's encyclopedias when we were growing up, and I loved them, and was pleased to find such a good set for my own family's library. And so they have been sitting on my daughter's bookshelf ever since.

Recently my daughter became interested in the books. They have colorful pictures and good photographs, and she likes to make up her own little stories about pictures that she sees. She started asking to read these books at bedtime, instead of her usual rhyming books or Winnie-the-Pooh. So we flip through the pages, I point things out to her, she asks questions, we make up stories.

Lately she has had a very difficult time falling asleep at naptime. (Please, please don't let this be the beginning of the end of naptime! I need her naptime!) I'll walk into her room an hour or two after tucking her in, and she'll be wide awake. Sometimes I hear her scrambling to get back into bed as I approach the door, and she'll be sitting there looking perfectly innocent, or will even be feigning sleep (poorly; she tries to snore), but her light will be on, her books scattered across the floor, her humidifier turned on. She doesn't cover her tracks well. For the most part, I'm okay with her "reading" or playing quietly in her room. If naptime evolves into quiet time, that's all right.

Today, an hour and a half into naptime, she started knocking on her door (she can't open it herself; she knocks when she is awake), sobbing. I knew she had not fallen asleep yet, but she doesn't really cry much unless she is hurt or really tired, so I went in prepared for either a minor injury or some time in the rocking chair. Turned out to be the latter. I opened the door and my sobbing two-year-old ran into my arms, holding her encyclopedia, crying, "Mommy, I can't find the stalagmites and stalactites! I can't find them!" Huh. So we sat in the rocking chair, I looked up the "Cave Exploration" pages of her book, we read about stalagmites and stalactites, and I tucked her back into bed.

I hear new parents sometimes ask why no one told them about all the problems they would encounter as parents. I think the answer is simple. Each individual child's crises are unique. Nobody can predict them. Who knew I would ever be called upon to comfort a child who couldn't find her cave formations?

Recent Sayings

Two year olds say some pretty funny things. Here are some of my recent favorites:

[Daughter hands me a picture she has drawn.]
Me: Oh, thank you so much! I love it!
Daughter: Oh, you're welcome! I so need a jelly bean!

[To man walking behind us at grocery store]
Daughter: What's your name?
Man: My name is Paul. What's your name?
Daughter: [blinks. Points to her father] His name is Andy.

My husband pointed out that this is a pretty good strategy for a two year old. She still gets to learn the names of all those around her, but does not have to reveal her own name. Instead, she makes it known that her father is close.

[To cashier at same grocery store]
Daughter: What's your name?
Cashier: My name is Penny.
Daughter: Oh. You know the Henny Penny book?

[To college-aged medical assistant during my medical exam]
Daughter: [in authoritative tone] Doctor, you need to be quiet. My mommy is taking a nap.

[To her father at the dinner table]
Daughter: Mommy thinks I am a slimy worm.
[What I had actually said was that she was a wiggle worm]

[Actual words to the song: "No room in the inn, No room in the inn, but you will find room in my heart"]
Daughter: No fish in the inn, No fish in the inn, but you will find a fish in my heart!

Daughter: Daddy, do you want to play a guitar or a woodpecker?

Thinking Again

The other day I was reading through some of my early blog posts. Seems that my two year blog anniversary has passed. Anyway. I was struck by how the posts have changed. Two years ago it seems that I was...well, thinking more. Or perhaps thinking about a wider variety of things. That may not be true; maybe it's just that I was writing about a wider variety of things. I'm not sure. Regardless, reading those old posts and thinking about the things that were on my mind two years ago made me yearn for deeper, richer thinking.

I started thinking about the books I've read recently. They haven't been trashy books by any means, but for the most part they have been practical living sorts of books - books on parenting and marriage and the like. Books with good ideas, but not wholly original ideas, as the authors would lead the reader to believe. For the most part they are rather poorly written and wordy. A well written pamphlet could relay the same information as the 300-page book. They use eight metaphors to explain a concept that is already straightforward and easy to understand. They are tiresome.

I browsed my bookshelves in search of a promising book that I have not yet read. I came across C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce. You really can't beat C.S. Lewis when it comes to originality, good writing, and clear thinking. I had not realized that The Great Divorce is a story. I had thought it to be one of Lewis' apologetics books. I'm sorry to say that it had been sitting on my shelf for years, unread, and then reading it took just an afternoon.

Then I read a few blog posts that whet my appetite for better reading and thinking even more. Bob wrote an interesting post on books, and the post continues into the realm of thinking in general in the comments. Then I found that all of Hansoniana's January posts deal with this issue as well.

I'm sitting here watching a very squirmy little girl on the floor. She has her feet on the floor, her head and hands on the floor, and her rear in the air. "Look, Mommy, I made a tunnel!" My days with this little girl are full. For her, there is nothing mentally tepid about our life. We read a lot of books. We learn about shapes and numbers and motion. We practice pulling up to put pants on and pulling down to take them off. This morning we talked about the difference between a shadow and a reflection as we found our shadows on the ground and our reflections in the puddles. We add new words to our vocabulary (well, to her vocabulary) daily. My husband and I are constantly amazed by how much she is learning, and how quickly. I'm sure all parents feel the same way. But I need to remind myself that an intellectually stimulating day for my two year old can still easily leave my own mind unexercised. That doesn't mean I have nothing on my mind; rather, it usually means I have way too many things on my mind, leaving no time or room to think about any one thing very deeply.

Just something I've been thinking about.

Poached Eggs

This morning I made my favorite breakfast for myself. Poached eggs on toast. It may not sound all that appetizing, but I love it.

My daughter is funny about eggs. She loved them when she was spoon fed and we found egg yolks to be a convenient and good source of protein for her. She even ate them when she first started picking up finger foods and feeding herself. (No whites until she was a year old, don't worry.) And then, without warning, she hated eggs. Couldn't stand them. We boiled, poached, scrambled, fried. We put them in fried rice and ramen noodles. We tried calling them things other than eggs. She would have none of it. Eggs were the only thing that Andy and I could put on our own plates without our daughter asking for a bite. This went on for nearly a year and a half.

Then a few weeks ago she started eating eggs again. Completely out of the blue. You would never know that the child had ever disliked them. We are thrilled.

So this morning, long after my daughter had finished her own breakfast, I made myself some poached eggs on toast. Two eggs, two slices of toast. I ate the first one and then called my mother-in-law. (Why did I call my MIL in the middle of breakfast? I guess I'm just used to eating in shifts.) While I was on the phone, my lovely egg-eating daughter climbed up to the table and ate the entire second piece of toast and egg. The whole thing. It took her about three minutes. I could hardly believe it. She asked for more, but she got some fruit instead.

My days of eating eggs without being asked for a bite are over. Now there are no sacred foods in our house. But at least she's eating eggs again.

Still Here

I think I have another post entitled "Still Here". How unoriginal of me.

Yes, I am still here. I just really haven't felt much like blogging lately. Things are good, life is full but not too busy. Spring is coming - have you noticed? Tiny flowers are making their way through the soil (and I wish them good luck in our yard - unless a plant is covered in thorns, the squirrels will eat it), tiny songbirds are everywhere, and the neighbors have started mowing their yards again. Our neighbors like to mow at night. Nearly every night from early spring until mid-autumn, someone around us uses a lawn mower after dark. We cannot figure out why. My husband mows during daylight hours, which we considered quite normal until we moved into this neighborhood.

Well, I am still not in a blogging frame of mind, so this is all the post I'll write today. Just wanted to pop in and say hello.

Shoe

Today's mail just arrived at my house. I wanted to get it from the mailbox, but didn't want to open the squeaky door to the closet that houses my shoes because my dear little one is napping, and her naps have been of questionable quality lately (too short, no nap at all, etc.). I knew I had a pair of shoes in the living room. Looking, looking. Oh, there's one shoe, in the middle of that pile of blocks. Good. Now, where's the other? Looking, looking. Oh. Of course. There it is...on the coffee table. Why wouldn't it be on the coffee table? Doesn't everyone keep their stray shoes on the coffee table?

Tell me, o ye parents whose toddlers are no longer toddlers: Will my house ever be clean again?

Quiet Happenings

If you were a 12 year old girl, would you like this bag? I'm helping with an event for 5th-8th grade girls, a day where they (and their moms) can ask questions and learn about all sorts of things that girls just entering their teen years might wonder about. Skin and hair care, makeup, what's happening to their bodies as they hit puberty, etc. We're hoping to clear up some myths, assure girls that what's happening is normal and okay, and open the lines of communication between mothers and daughters who might need a little help.

Our goal is to make it a really fun day. We'd like the girls to walk away feeling grown up and a bit pampered, so we're giving them each a "goodie bag". The contents of the bag have yet to be determined, but I'm working on prototypes for the bag itself. This is the drawstring version. A zippered version will be next. The fabric is from Deb Strain's Daydreams line for Moda.


I love having a toddler. It's such a great excuse for doing things like hanging 8-foot paper heart garlands...and egg carton hearts...and pipe cleaner hearts. The others are Hardanger and pewter, so no excuse needed.

I love this girl.

(The coloring of the egg carton cups used in the aforementioned egg carton heart.)

Hope you're all having a great weekend!

Saturday

We spent the weekend with Andy's folks.

Feeding the birds with Grandpa.

Girl time with Cousin A.

Cousin L.'s birthday party. Cupcakes, hamburgers, and lots and lots of dogs (real and play).

Friday

Friday was a fun day. We played with the rice box, a new favorite pastime.

This, apparently, is how one makes a "snowy mountain".

We practiced showing our emotions through facial expressions.

This is "Surprise".

"Happy".

"Sad".

Fun mail. This is a sort of craft challenge package.

New fabric. I'll be making about 30 small bags for an event I'm helping with, and we've chosen black/white damask with hot pink accents as the color scheme. Should be fun!

Family movie night. We each get a pillow, a blanket, and a stuffed animal. Good times.

Thursday

Thursday was a day of little picture-taking. We were invited to a lovely visit at the home of my friend Beth, whose daughters are some of my daughter's best friends. I love watching my girl play with other children. I'm from a large family and was never without a playmate, so it's a bit sad for me to see my daughter get older and older as an only child.

A regular afternoon nap just didn't happen. The nap pictured above happened around 6:00 in the evening. Yes, that made for a very late bedtime. She napped on my bed, which is a treat for her. It was very dark in there when this picture was taken; I was mean and used a bright flash. When my daughter woke up (at 7:30 pm!), she climbed into my lap and said, "I sleeped in Mommy's bed for a whole week!" I'd love to figure out her understanding of the word "week".

This book is one of my favorites right now. It is a collection of lullabies, and there is a famous work of art to correspond with each lullaby. It is a beautiful book. I like looking at it with my daughter. She sees things in the art that I wouldn't notice, like cats hiding in corners, yellow shoes, shadows.

We do a lot of singing at my house during the day. I really enjoy the way we learn new songs around here. When we're learning a new song, we will sing it every which way - loudly, then quietly, quickly, then slowly. Repetition aids learning, but can be boring if it doesn't include any variation. Once we've learned the song pretty well, we move on to mixing up words. For example, I'll sing, "Twinkle, twinkle, little cupcake...", and my daughter will immediately jump in and say, "No, not cupcake! Star!" I reply, "Ooooh! Star!", and thank her for helping me learn the correct words. This works remarkably well. It's fun when we read, too. When we're reading a familiar story, I'll stop a few words short of the end of the line. My daughter finishes the line for me. She takes great pride in this, and I love hearing how she emulates the intonations she has heard me use.

Two is a very challenging age, it's true. I don't think it would be entirely out of line to give parents of two year olds (and three and four year olds, I'm told) prescription steroids so they can keep up with the 28 pounds of perpetual energy. (Yes, I'm kidding. Sort of.) But at the same time, it's such a fun age! It is amazing how quickly they learn, how much they understand, how many discoveries they make. My daughter amazes me with her perception. If I say "ow", she'll ask I'm okay. If I'm being quiet or I seem distracted, she'll say, "Mommy, are you having a sad day?" She's so innocent and sweet and wonderful. She wears me out, yes, but I wouldn't trade this time for anything.

Wednesday

At first it was hard to believe that Wednesday was a photo-worthy day.

It seemed that I spent the majority of the day on the phone. I'm not a phone person.

But I did do a little bit of cutting.

And a little bit of sewing.

And there was some vacuuming between phone calls.

A friend's homemade banana bread. Yum. And yes, it's half gone already. Hey, it was a miniature loaf.

Tuesday

Every morning starts with at least one cup.

A new hairdo.

For me, too.


Chinese food. Or at least what Americans think of as Chinese food.

Monday

This morning we woke up to a winter wonderland.

Blue skies, freezing temperatures, and 4-5" of snow (that's a lot in western Washington).

It's especially a lot when you're 35" tall.

The world's cutest and least effective catching position.
Also works as a bear imitation.

We couldn't play all day, though. Monday just wouldn't be Monday without laundry.

"Seriously, Mom, do you ever put the camera down?"

A snow day is the perfect opportunity to get some things done around the house - like hanging this shelf. It's finished to look "rustic" - you know, sanded a little bit so the wood shows through the paint? I'm not convinced. It may get a coat of paint. We'll see.

Paperwork. There's no time like the present.

Sunday

Sunday afternoons are pretty quiet at our house. This is a good thing, because Sunday mornings and evenings have a tendency to be kind of hectic. Here are a few glimpses of our Sunday.

Toddler collage art.

See, saving magazines does come in handy eventually!

"Mom, you're disrupting the artistic process. Again."

Devil's Food cupcakes, compliments of my husband. That's just about as good as it gets, folks.

Facing My Fears

Hi, my name is Holly and I hoard fabric.

I do. I love textiles and oftentimes view fabric the way others view art. I love the textures, the colors, the design. A really beautiful piece of fabric, alone or combined with others, can take my breath away in the same way that an amazing painting can. Does that seem odd? I guess I view textile arts as, well, just that...art. And paying attention to the details of textile art has actually helped me to appreciate other forms of art more. I can't claim to understand it all. I'm not an artist and have never taken an art class in my life (I opted for an art history class to fulfill my Fine Arts requirement in college). But learning about fabric has given me a greater understanding of and appreciation for design elements, color, and detail. Now I can see a perfect joint in a woodworking project that my husband has done, and I am amazed by how beautiful it is.

But back to my fabric hoarding. My fabric stash is disproportionately large in comparison to the amount of sewing that I do. I tend to save things anyway. I'm not sure if that habit goes back to my childhood, when my family didn't have much in the way of material goods. That's all fine and good, but there is a difference. When you don't have much, you really use the things that you do have. We didn't throw much away when I was a kid, but we didn't stash things, either. We used everything. Now I am an adult and there is, thankfully, no struggle to have my material needs met. I'm still in the habit of saving everything. The difference now is that I don't need to do that. Our daily needs are met without a tremendous amount of scrimping. All those things that I save...they just sit there, largely unused and taking up space. My fabric collection is no exception. In fact, it is the reigning queen of the packrat kingdom in my house.

I have fabric that I am afraid to use because then it will be gone. Classic packrat, yes? You would think I'd grown up during the Depression, not the 1980s. Well, I've recognized this bad habit and have decided to change it. So here are some pictures of things I've made entirely from my stash. The top picture is a small tote bag. I had intended it for a young friend's birthday, but I'm not thrilled with some of the details (I used the thread that was in my machine, white, when orange or yellow would have looked so much nicer for the topstitching), so I think it will be my daughter's library bag. The second picture is of some throw pillows made from a vintage tablecloth. I really love embroidery and bought the tablecloth because I just loved the careful details. Naturally, it did not fit my table. It sat on my shelf for months. Then I measured the designs and ironed the cloth in preparation for cutting it. Then it sat on my ironing board for days. I sometimes hesitate to cut into new, mass-produced fabric in my stash. Imagine my hesitation to cut into a vintage, handmade piece! But I finally did. I cut out 12" squares, added borders, and attached soft pink envelope backs. I think that this was a good exercise for me. Now instead of having a beautiful but unused tablecloth, I have two very functional, pretty pillows. I won't be keeping these particular pillows for myself, but that's beside the point.

Still Here

I am still here! Didn't mean to be away for quite that long. Life has been busy these last few weeks. I'm always frustrated with myself when our schedule gets too busy. We try to keep close tabs on our time, to not let ourselves get so busy that we're too busy for the things that are really important. We try to be available for and flexible with appointments, meetings, etc. I used to work in a medical clinic, and I remember how difficult it was to work with patients who said they needed their appointment to be on Wednesday at 3:30. No exceptions. Not only did that make it nearly impossible to see them (a lot of people seem to think that doctors are just sitting around waiting for patients), but it also made me feel kind of sorry for them. I would hate to have such a rigid schedule! And so I try not to.

The danger in having a flexible schedule, though, is overcommitment. (In the early days of staying home with my daughter, people would comment on how wonderful it must be to have so much free time. I always tried to gently tell them that my time was flexible, but it was not free. Free time to me meant deciding whether to watch TV or read a magazine. Flexible time meant deciding whether to run errands or give the baby a bath first.) I have not yet come to a place where I immediately recognize my own flexible plans as being just as valid as scheduled appointments on the calendar. If I have planned a day at home to clean and do laundry, and someone asks me to do something, chances are that I'll say yes. Or, more often, I'll agree to an event on a "free" day without paying attention to the fact that it's the only free day for two weeks. That's when my first priority, my family, suffers. We suffer not only from lack of clean clothes and dishes, but also from lack of time together, relaxed time to just enjoy one another. When we're rushing from activity to activity, errand to errand, then our precious few minutes in between at home are spent getting ready for the next calendar event, and we miss out on quiet meals, toddler tea parties, jam sessions with kazoos and tambourines, even slow-paced trips to the mailbox with stops to examine pinecones, squirrels, and rain puddles.

(Our daughter discovered that she could "make hands" after eating a piece of sticky lemon cake.)

I certainly don't want to sequester myself or my daughter at home all the time. We need to pursue friendships, to take educational opportunities, to give of our time in a charitable capacity. In fact, I think that it is altogether possible to spend too much time at home. But the effects I'm feeling right now aren't from too much time at home. You would think that, two and a half years into this stay-at-home role, I would have mastered the art of time management. I haven't. I'm afraid that somewhere in my mind, despite the fact that I believe this job of parenting is important and should take top priority over every other role that I have, there is still a nagging whisper that says I can do parenting and homemaking tasks any old time. It says that setting aside time to play outside with my daughter is a luxury that should take second seat to a meeting at church. It says that the things on my "Home" to do list should come after the things on my "Work" and "Church" to do lists. This leaves me feeling stressed, cranky, dissatisfied, and unorganized. There is an abrasive, unhealthy tension when stated priorities don't match active priorities. I always feel calm and content when I take care of my family and my home first. Of course, that's not to say that other commitments should be neglected. I believe firmly that once we commit to something, we need to see that commitment through. (Provided, of course, that it is not a harmful or immoral activity.) I also don't mean to say that we should forgo outside activities just because we don't feel like doing them. I really believe that service to others, whether formal volunteer work or baking a batch of cookies for a burdened friend, is very important. I believe that, for Christians, corporate worship and involvement in a local congregation is important. For those with kids in school, I believe it is important to be involved in your child's school. Those are some things that we shouldn't ignore because we don't feel like doing them. But there has got to be a balance, you know? We don't have to be on every volunteer board, every church committee, every school trip. Overcommitting doesn't get things done! (I have strong opinions on the popular idea of multi-tasking, too, but that's another post.)

(sigh)

I'm really rambling here, and probably not making much sense. Does anyone know what I mean? Jane at Yarnstorm recently quoted her former English teacher as having said, "You don't know what you're thinking until you can say it." I like that. By that standard, though, I only sort of know what I'm thinking on the subject, given the blathering of the last few paragraphs.

I need to go and wash those lemon cake handprints off my front window.