This morning Elliott was doing his usual babble while playing with toys on the living floor - the familiar "da"s and "doh"s and "oo-be"s - when Liam ran into the kitchen and said, "Mom, do you know what Elliott just said?"
"Dad?" I guessed.
With a look that said, you, lady, have got to be the craziest woman on the planet, he replied, "No, hedgehog."
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
for the love of pumpkin
Fall brings out the best in me, particularly in the kitchen. Ginger cookies, homemade applesauce, and anything with pumpkin. This recipe, which I whipped up tonight, is one of the greatest-tasting, easy-to-prepare soups you'll ever chance upon. Thanks to my cousin Josie for finding it years ago and convincing me that it would make me go, "mmmm." Thanks to the Watermark restaurant in Cleveland for concocting it and to Bon Appetit for printing it. And thanks to God for making all of these luscious ingredients that, oddly enough, really do work together.
Southwestern Pumpkin Soup
3 cups chicken stock
1 cup whipping cream
1 can pumpkin
3 T brown sugar
1 t cumin
1/2 t chili powder
1/2 t ground coriander
1/8 t nutmeg
3/4 c grated cheddar cheese
Chopped fresh cilantro
Bring stock and cream to a boil. Whisk in pumpkin, sugar and all spices. Reduce heat to medium and simmer 15 minutes until thickens slightly and flavors blend. Season to taste with salt and pepper. (I add nearly 1/2 t of each.) Remove from heat and stir in 1/2 cup of cheese. Garnish with remaining cheese and cilantro.
Southwestern Pumpkin Soup
3 cups chicken stock
1 cup whipping cream
1 can pumpkin
3 T brown sugar
1 t cumin
1/2 t chili powder
1/2 t ground coriander
1/8 t nutmeg
3/4 c grated cheddar cheese
Chopped fresh cilantro
Bring stock and cream to a boil. Whisk in pumpkin, sugar and all spices. Reduce heat to medium and simmer 15 minutes until thickens slightly and flavors blend. Season to taste with salt and pepper. (I add nearly 1/2 t of each.) Remove from heat and stir in 1/2 cup of cheese. Garnish with remaining cheese and cilantro.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
cohabitation
Today we moved Liam and Elliott into the same bedroom. I thought we might do this someday when Elliott was older and sleeping in a bed, but a great blog post I read last week about the benefits of siblings sharing a room gave me a push. Although the night is young, here are a few additional benefits I already see:
:: Stuff just has to go. We unloaded a changing table on friends who will soon be adopting; relocated and donated toys: sorted, shuffled and Freecycled clothing; and found some other creative ways to make space (i.e., moved it to the basement).
:: Instead of two half-decorated rooms, we now have one very cute, fully decorated bedroom. And it is the most organized, best-looking room in the house. I wish I was sleeping there.
:: I get my office back, which will now be office/guest room/sewing room. Hallelujah!
:: Monsters don't visit when there are two in a room, or at least someone's got your back. Even I feel safer in there now.
:: Brotherly love really shines or, as Liam aptly put it tonight as he skipped up to bed, "This is soooo special."
Here's hoping the lovin' feeling lasts for a while. I, for one, couldn't be happier.
:: Stuff just has to go. We unloaded a changing table on friends who will soon be adopting; relocated and donated toys: sorted, shuffled and Freecycled clothing; and found some other creative ways to make space (i.e., moved it to the basement).
:: Instead of two half-decorated rooms, we now have one very cute, fully decorated bedroom. And it is the most organized, best-looking room in the house. I wish I was sleeping there.
:: I get my office back, which will now be office/guest room/sewing room. Hallelujah!
:: Monsters don't visit when there are two in a room, or at least someone's got your back. Even I feel safer in there now.
:: Brotherly love really shines or, as Liam aptly put it tonight as he skipped up to bed, "This is soooo special."
Here's hoping the lovin' feeling lasts for a while. I, for one, couldn't be happier.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
it takes a farm
While waiting for my son to finish gymnastics this afternoon, I overheard one of the moms talking to her friends. She was carrying on about how important she thinks it is to always and everywhere look your best. Even if you're running out for bagels on a Saturday morning, you should put on your makeup and a good-looking outfit. You never know who you might see, she reasoned. What if you bumped into an old high school boyfriend for heaven's sake?
I quickly gave myself a once over and figured I probably wouldn't rank particularly high in her "looking good" files. I had barely a trace of makeup and jeans that were long overdue for a wash. What a relief that I had remembered earings. Pearls, even.
I joke, but I am not opposed to looking nice. It would probably behoove me to try a little harder sometimes. But, truth is, I do not have a huge closet full of clothes and shoes. (Although, I do own a $200 pair of jeans. An uncharacteristic moment of insanity.) I rarely do more to pretty my face than whip out a mascara wand. But is that really what's needed for looking our best?
After gymnastics, we drove to our favorite local destination - Heritage Prairie Market and Farm. I get such a rush of joy and lightness when I step out of the car onto the gravel and see the chickens strutting through the zinnias and hear the goat babies bleating in their pen. I am nearly sure that in a beautiful previous life, a farm was my home.
After checking out the animal doings and drinking in every shade of green and gold, we hit the market for our staples. Inside, Liam was greeted by name by the shopkeeper. We chatted for a while about preschool and winter gardening and jewelry making and the funny paths our lives take. She never seemed rushed or ready to move on to something more important. And, as far as I could tell, she wasn't paying one iota of attention to how I looked. She, I noticed however, was makeupless and wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a cool enamel necklace she made. She was cute as a button.
On the way back to our car, we ran into the "farm wife," another makeupless, t-shirted woman who looks just like an Ivory soap girl. She could have easily and comfortably walked by without even saying hello as we were nearly at our car and she was on the path from house to store. But she waved hello and walked over to ask Liam if he'd said hey to the goats and to give Elliott a toe squeeze.
In that moment, I thought, this is it. This is what the gymnastics mom is looking for. Because as I soaked in the kindness, the slow pace, the genuineness, the happy squeals of my littlest farmer and the warm, golden sunlight, I felt quite sure that there in my well-worn jeans, unstyled hairdo and makeupless face, I looked my best. And if my old high school boyfriend was there on that farm, he definitely would have been groveling.
I quickly gave myself a once over and figured I probably wouldn't rank particularly high in her "looking good" files. I had barely a trace of makeup and jeans that were long overdue for a wash. What a relief that I had remembered earings. Pearls, even.
I joke, but I am not opposed to looking nice. It would probably behoove me to try a little harder sometimes. But, truth is, I do not have a huge closet full of clothes and shoes. (Although, I do own a $200 pair of jeans. An uncharacteristic moment of insanity.) I rarely do more to pretty my face than whip out a mascara wand. But is that really what's needed for looking our best?
After gymnastics, we drove to our favorite local destination - Heritage Prairie Market and Farm. I get such a rush of joy and lightness when I step out of the car onto the gravel and see the chickens strutting through the zinnias and hear the goat babies bleating in their pen. I am nearly sure that in a beautiful previous life, a farm was my home.
After checking out the animal doings and drinking in every shade of green and gold, we hit the market for our staples. Inside, Liam was greeted by name by the shopkeeper. We chatted for a while about preschool and winter gardening and jewelry making and the funny paths our lives take. She never seemed rushed or ready to move on to something more important. And, as far as I could tell, she wasn't paying one iota of attention to how I looked. She, I noticed however, was makeupless and wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a cool enamel necklace she made. She was cute as a button.
On the way back to our car, we ran into the "farm wife," another makeupless, t-shirted woman who looks just like an Ivory soap girl. She could have easily and comfortably walked by without even saying hello as we were nearly at our car and she was on the path from house to store. But she waved hello and walked over to ask Liam if he'd said hey to the goats and to give Elliott a toe squeeze.
In that moment, I thought, this is it. This is what the gymnastics mom is looking for. Because as I soaked in the kindness, the slow pace, the genuineness, the happy squeals of my littlest farmer and the warm, golden sunlight, I felt quite sure that there in my well-worn jeans, unstyled hairdo and makeupless face, I looked my best. And if my old high school boyfriend was there on that farm, he definitely would have been groveling.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
love notes
While Liam was at preschool and Elliott was crawling around the porch chewing on books, I cleaned up the art corner. One of my big tasks was to straighten the pile of papers that had accummulated over the last couple months. Sifting through to find what could be recycled and what should be saved, I came across sheet after sheet of writing that began, "LIAM LOVES" and variations on the sentiment, including "LIAM I LOVE" and, simply, "I LOVE." In fact, every page with writing was a love note. Most included "Ava," the name of the girl across the street, and many included "mom" and "dad," and a few (which would have required dictation) included "Elliott." Maybe he only puts these words together because they (other than Elliott) are the complete quotient of words he can write and spell entirely on his own. But I think there's more to it. Although he can be bossy and competitive, easily frustrated and argumentative, Liam is a lover. He loves his mom, his dad, his brother and Ava. Particularly Ava. And if they should wonder about it 20 years down the road, no worries. We have the notes to prove it.
Monday, September 22, 2008
favorite things :: folding
Several years ago when my brother was engaged, I attended a bridal shower for my sister-in-law where one of the games was a quiz to see how well my future sister-in-law knew my brother's interests and preferences. One of the few questions she missed was this, "What is Rob's favorite chore?" The quiz had been administered to my brother before the shower so the hostess would have his actual answers on hand. I can't remember what my sister-in-law answered, but I do remember what my brother had said, which was "wiping the counters." Spoken like a true bachelor.
I imagine by now my brother has become privy to a whole new world of chores, a world where wiping the counters goes hand in hand with filling the dishwasher, washing the pots and pans and cleaning the kitchen. Truthfully, I prefer my brother's take on chores. If I could pick and choose, this would be my list, the only things I'd do: fold the laundry (but definitely not put it away), sweep the floor (but just into a pile), cook the meals (but not do the shopping or clean up after) and, I guess, wipe the counters. As you can see, like my brother, I'm not big on chores.
The one chore, though, that I prefer to do, dare I say, like to do, is fold. I love the warm, clean clothes, the zen-like process, the neat, organized stacks. I love that I can't do anything else while I fold. Can't eat, can't respond to email, can't read. I can't even really watch TV because I get so distracted. That's because most of all, I love to hold my boys' tie-dye t-shirts and dinosaur pajamas and think about how cute and funny they are and how much I love them (the kids not the clothes). It's sappy, I know, but in a really busy day, it's some of the only still reflection time I get.
Now if I could just get me a wife who would happily sort, fill and empty the washer and dryer and put the clothes away. If I had that, laundry wouldn't even be a chore.
I imagine by now my brother has become privy to a whole new world of chores, a world where wiping the counters goes hand in hand with filling the dishwasher, washing the pots and pans and cleaning the kitchen. Truthfully, I prefer my brother's take on chores. If I could pick and choose, this would be my list, the only things I'd do: fold the laundry (but definitely not put it away), sweep the floor (but just into a pile), cook the meals (but not do the shopping or clean up after) and, I guess, wipe the counters. As you can see, like my brother, I'm not big on chores.
The one chore, though, that I prefer to do, dare I say, like to do, is fold. I love the warm, clean clothes, the zen-like process, the neat, organized stacks. I love that I can't do anything else while I fold. Can't eat, can't respond to email, can't read. I can't even really watch TV because I get so distracted. That's because most of all, I love to hold my boys' tie-dye t-shirts and dinosaur pajamas and think about how cute and funny they are and how much I love them (the kids not the clothes). It's sappy, I know, but in a really busy day, it's some of the only still reflection time I get.
Now if I could just get me a wife who would happily sort, fill and empty the washer and dryer and put the clothes away. If I had that, laundry wouldn't even be a chore.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
favorite things :: art wires
About two years ago, as our fridge was overtaken with Liam's first drawings, I had an idea to hang a string across the far end of our kitchen and use little clothes pins to hang the artwork. Ever after crammed with artwork, this wire has become the focal point of the room, inspiring happy thoughts on dreary days. Over the last couple months I have run across this same idea in books and blogs that I like, where it's usually called an "inspiration wire."
Last weekend when the big rains hit and water began seeping into the storage room in the basement (thankfully, we were able to keep it from entering the finished part of the basement), I found a bag of clothespins in the big clean up. So, this week we hung up a ribbon across the corner of the porch/art room/guitar lesson studio and used our newfound clothespins to hang the most recent paintings and drawings and a few of Liam's favorite photos. It makes me so happy to see these creative and colorful displays, I am thinking of stringing one up in every room of the house. I wonder if hanging bills on a wire would make them look cheerier. I'm just about willing to try it.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
metalheads
Recently I packed my CD collection into a storage bin and it is sitting on the family room floor waiting for a home. A couple days ago Liam started pulling CDs out of the bin, asking about each, "Is this rock and roll?" I knew he was looking for the kind of music his dad likes (loud with heavy guitars). I think the closest thing in my collection is old U2 and the Freddy Jones Band. In other words, nothing even close.
Liam and Andrew share the same taste in music. I was convinced it was programming, since he was exposed to Andrew's music at such an early age and in long such bouts, like during a cross country driving trip at five weeks old. But I can't deny that his being drawn to "dad's" music - including dad's actual music - seems to be a genuine passion and a whole body embrace. I have been pretty sure, though, that Elliott would be different.
Elliott seems to enjoy all music equally. He doesn't respond differently to the type of music; he bobs and grooves, whether it's classical, worship, pop or metal. But last night he suddenly showed a whole new side to his musical sensibilities. He became excited (dare I say thrilled and giddy), clapping and laughing and head banging. No, not to Allison Krause or James Taylor but to AC/DC. I know I shouldn't be surprised, but can't I get one folk lover in the family? I am miserably outnumbered. Car trips will forever be metal. Mark and Jamie, I'm riding with you.
Liam and Andrew share the same taste in music. I was convinced it was programming, since he was exposed to Andrew's music at such an early age and in long such bouts, like during a cross country driving trip at five weeks old. But I can't deny that his being drawn to "dad's" music - including dad's actual music - seems to be a genuine passion and a whole body embrace. I have been pretty sure, though, that Elliott would be different.
Elliott seems to enjoy all music equally. He doesn't respond differently to the type of music; he bobs and grooves, whether it's classical, worship, pop or metal. But last night he suddenly showed a whole new side to his musical sensibilities. He became excited (dare I say thrilled and giddy), clapping and laughing and head banging. No, not to Allison Krause or James Taylor but to AC/DC. I know I shouldn't be surprised, but can't I get one folk lover in the family? I am miserably outnumbered. Car trips will forever be metal. Mark and Jamie, I'm riding with you.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
ask and you shall not receive
One of many daily conversations that make me laugh...
Andrew: Liam, please tidy up the toys.
Liam: Are you asking me or telling me, daddy?
Andrew: Why?
Liam: Because if you're asking me, no.
Andrew: Then I'm telling you.
Liam: Okay.
...and he merrily went about cleaning up the toys. Good to know we're still in charge.
Andrew: Liam, please tidy up the toys.
Liam: Are you asking me or telling me, daddy?
Andrew: Why?
Liam: Because if you're asking me, no.
Andrew: Then I'm telling you.
Liam: Okay.
...and he merrily went about cleaning up the toys. Good to know we're still in charge.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
to buy or not to buy
Friday I took Liam with me to a children's resale shop to look for a little girl's shirt to embellish for a birthday present. Before we went into the store, I explained to him that we were there to look for a shirt for Julianna, not to buy things for him. I didn't think the one-item trip would be an issue until I saw the Halloween costumes.
Liam has an insatiable passion for Halloween - the dressing up, the promise of candy, the odd spookiness of it all. The minute we walked into the store I knew we weren't getting out of there without some kind of disguise. It didn't take long for Liam to track down a batman costume in his size - a nicely made one with a cape and mask for just $8. Okay, I told him, but that's it.
As we were heading for the counter with the costume and the shirt we found for our gift, Liam spied a gun and holster set.
"Mom," he said running it over to me. "Batman needs this."
I patiently explained that the real batman never carries or uses a weapon. Plus, we were only getting the costume today.
"But, mom," he pleaded. "I really want this."
"Well," I paused. "You can have the gun set or the costume - just one - your choice."
I held my breath as he carefully and quietly looked them both over and then, thankfully, pointed to the costume.
Later that day, after several hours enjoying his new personna, Liam plopped himself on the couch, crestfallen.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"I wish I had the guns."
"Honey, we can't have everything we want."
"But that's not everything, mom. That's just two things," he said. "I really wanted all the costumes."
Well, if that ain't our sorry human condition. We don't just want the thing we didn't get to have. We want everything, and more.
When I was in high school, I was dying for a pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. If I only had them, I pleaded with my dad, I would be happy. My dad wisely suggested that the jeans wouldn't be the end of my quest for happiness. Something else would be next, something else I needed to make me happy. And he was right. The desire for things never ends.
I probably shouldn't have bought the costume to begin with, but it was so darn cute. Now I wonder if that sets a bad precident. What's the healthiest way to approach shopping with kids? Probably the same way it would be to approach it with myself - if you didn't come in to buy it, don't buy it. Let it go; think about it for a day and then come back if it's still something you need or want and is within reason/budget. How hard it is to do this with a child. (It's hard enough to do it with myself!) You see that excited longing or are faced with that agonized pleading and you give in. You want to see them "happy." But I'm beginning to think that this is pretty short sighted.
I am thinking about starting an allowance with Liam and letting him decide how he wants to spend or save his money to learn about the disappointment of blowing it on something frivolous and the satisfaction of saving for something special and the joy of giving some of it away. I feel like my own childhood was a strange combination of being inundated with purchases I didn't really want or need (but that I think my mom wanted for me) and being denied simple items I longed for (because whoever I was asking just wasn't in the mood to buy or didn't think was worth it). In a word, my experience with buying stuff was random. And that's pretty much how I continue on today.
It's going to be hard work to make life different for batman. But I'll do it. Because I know that the quest for happiness should never involve anything that comes with a price tag and, well, you just can't have everything you want.
::: Anyone with good ideas on how to teach kids about money, give an allowance, to buy or not to buy, etc., please share. I can use all the help I can get. :::
Liam has an insatiable passion for Halloween - the dressing up, the promise of candy, the odd spookiness of it all. The minute we walked into the store I knew we weren't getting out of there without some kind of disguise. It didn't take long for Liam to track down a batman costume in his size - a nicely made one with a cape and mask for just $8. Okay, I told him, but that's it.
As we were heading for the counter with the costume and the shirt we found for our gift, Liam spied a gun and holster set.
"Mom," he said running it over to me. "Batman needs this."
I patiently explained that the real batman never carries or uses a weapon. Plus, we were only getting the costume today.
"But, mom," he pleaded. "I really want this."
"Well," I paused. "You can have the gun set or the costume - just one - your choice."
I held my breath as he carefully and quietly looked them both over and then, thankfully, pointed to the costume.
Later that day, after several hours enjoying his new personna, Liam plopped himself on the couch, crestfallen.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"I wish I had the guns."
"Honey, we can't have everything we want."
"But that's not everything, mom. That's just two things," he said. "I really wanted all the costumes."
Well, if that ain't our sorry human condition. We don't just want the thing we didn't get to have. We want everything, and more.
When I was in high school, I was dying for a pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. If I only had them, I pleaded with my dad, I would be happy. My dad wisely suggested that the jeans wouldn't be the end of my quest for happiness. Something else would be next, something else I needed to make me happy. And he was right. The desire for things never ends.
I probably shouldn't have bought the costume to begin with, but it was so darn cute. Now I wonder if that sets a bad precident. What's the healthiest way to approach shopping with kids? Probably the same way it would be to approach it with myself - if you didn't come in to buy it, don't buy it. Let it go; think about it for a day and then come back if it's still something you need or want and is within reason/budget. How hard it is to do this with a child. (It's hard enough to do it with myself!) You see that excited longing or are faced with that agonized pleading and you give in. You want to see them "happy." But I'm beginning to think that this is pretty short sighted.
I am thinking about starting an allowance with Liam and letting him decide how he wants to spend or save his money to learn about the disappointment of blowing it on something frivolous and the satisfaction of saving for something special and the joy of giving some of it away. I feel like my own childhood was a strange combination of being inundated with purchases I didn't really want or need (but that I think my mom wanted for me) and being denied simple items I longed for (because whoever I was asking just wasn't in the mood to buy or didn't think was worth it). In a word, my experience with buying stuff was random. And that's pretty much how I continue on today.
It's going to be hard work to make life different for batman. But I'll do it. Because I know that the quest for happiness should never involve anything that comes with a price tag and, well, you just can't have everything you want.
::: Anyone with good ideas on how to teach kids about money, give an allowance, to buy or not to buy, etc., please share. I can use all the help I can get. :::
Thursday, September 11, 2008
favorites, old and new
May 2004. Liam enters the world and mom (with the help of aunt Liz) makes - for the first time - chicken corn chowder. And we've never looked back. Seriously (although no comparison to Liam), this is majorly good comfort food and it gives leftovers a better life than they had the first time around. It's my favorite late in the corn season. I usually boil a couple extra cobs to be sure we're left with enough to cut from the cob. Just read the recipe. You won't be disappointed. (Inspired by Everyday Food.)
Chicken Corn Chowder
2-3 strips bacon
1 small onion, chopped
2 stalks celery, chopped
2 T flour
4 c. milk
1-2 c. rotiserrie, baked or fried chicken, pulled off the bone in bite-sized pieces
8-10 small red potatoes, in bite-sized pieces
2-3 cobs of corn, cooked or uncooked, corn cut from cob
sprinkle of cayenne pepper
salt and pepper to taste
Cook bacon in dutch oven until brown and ready to crumble. Remove bacon. Add onion and celery to pot and cook 5 minutes. Stir in flour. After one minute, add milk. Bring to a boil and add the rest of the ingredients. Simmer until potatoes are tender. Serve topped with crumbled bacon.
::::
Depending how many mouths there are at your table, this is a great meal to share. Tonight we took a jar of it to an older woman who lives alone and doesn't enjoy cooking for herself. With a couple rolls and a small salad, you've got a pretty nice spread. Hardly anything makes me happier than pushing homemade food on people, especially food made in good company and received with open arms. So, today, we couldn't resist adding cookies to the menu. Liam led the way on this first-time trial, which will now be added to our regular repertoire. Butter + sugar + pecans = oh, my. And, oh, so easy. (Also from Everyday Food, May 2004.)
Butter Pecan Cookies
3/4 c. pecans
1 stick unsalted butter
1/3 c. sugar
1 t. vanilla
1/8 t. salt
1 c. flour
Heat over to 350 and toast pecans on cookie sheet for 5-6 minutes. Remove and coasely chop. Cream butter and sugar; mix in the rest of the ingredients. Shape batter into 12 balls; roll in sugar and gently flatten on cookie sheet. Bake 15 minutes.
Chicken Corn Chowder
2-3 strips bacon
1 small onion, chopped
2 stalks celery, chopped
2 T flour
4 c. milk
1-2 c. rotiserrie, baked or fried chicken, pulled off the bone in bite-sized pieces
8-10 small red potatoes, in bite-sized pieces
2-3 cobs of corn, cooked or uncooked, corn cut from cob
sprinkle of cayenne pepper
salt and pepper to taste
Cook bacon in dutch oven until brown and ready to crumble. Remove bacon. Add onion and celery to pot and cook 5 minutes. Stir in flour. After one minute, add milk. Bring to a boil and add the rest of the ingredients. Simmer until potatoes are tender. Serve topped with crumbled bacon.
::::
Depending how many mouths there are at your table, this is a great meal to share. Tonight we took a jar of it to an older woman who lives alone and doesn't enjoy cooking for herself. With a couple rolls and a small salad, you've got a pretty nice spread. Hardly anything makes me happier than pushing homemade food on people, especially food made in good company and received with open arms. So, today, we couldn't resist adding cookies to the menu. Liam led the way on this first-time trial, which will now be added to our regular repertoire. Butter + sugar + pecans = oh, my. And, oh, so easy. (Also from Everyday Food, May 2004.)
Butter Pecan Cookies
3/4 c. pecans
1 stick unsalted butter
1/3 c. sugar
1 t. vanilla
1/8 t. salt
1 c. flour
Heat over to 350 and toast pecans on cookie sheet for 5-6 minutes. Remove and coasely chop. Cream butter and sugar; mix in the rest of the ingredients. Shape batter into 12 balls; roll in sugar and gently flatten on cookie sheet. Bake 15 minutes.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
think I'll go to africa
When I was growing up, this was the common refrain from my stepmom (or some version of it) to let us kids (especially my youngest brother and sister) know that she had reached her limit. Nearly everyday, it seemed, she was going to Africa. Well, tomorrow Gigi is finally going to be true to her word and - brave woman - will be accompanying my dad to Africa for three weeks! They will visit numerous countries for meetings, ministry and a bit of sightseeing.
Last night when I put Liam to bed I added Papa and Gigi's Africa trip to our prayers. Liam interrupted to ask, "Africa? But where will Papa and Gigi sleep?"
"In a bed I suppose."
"Like a grass mat?" Liam wondered.
"Um, no, like a bed."
"But, where?" he asked again.
"Well," I pondered, "Maybe a hotel some nights; maybe someone's house; and maybe even a tent."
"What?" he laughed. "They can't sleep in a tent. They're too big!"
He was clearly imagining a version of the small pup tent he has set up in his room.
"There are some really big tents. Some of them even have beds in them," I said
Liam laughed and popped up on one elbow to get a good look at me. Then he shook his head and flopped back on his pillow.
"Mom," he said, "You are joking me. That is the craziest thing I ever heard. There are no tent beds in Africa."
I just received Papa and Gigi's itinerary. Tent beds? No. Adventure? Yes. I think Gigi is still a little dumbstruck that she is actually going to Africa after all the years of saying it. So, be careful what you threaten. It's a long way to the moon.
Last night when I put Liam to bed I added Papa and Gigi's Africa trip to our prayers. Liam interrupted to ask, "Africa? But where will Papa and Gigi sleep?"
"In a bed I suppose."
"Like a grass mat?" Liam wondered.
"Um, no, like a bed."
"But, where?" he asked again.
"Well," I pondered, "Maybe a hotel some nights; maybe someone's house; and maybe even a tent."
"What?" he laughed. "They can't sleep in a tent. They're too big!"
He was clearly imagining a version of the small pup tent he has set up in his room.
"There are some really big tents. Some of them even have beds in them," I said
Liam laughed and popped up on one elbow to get a good look at me. Then he shook his head and flopped back on his pillow.
"Mom," he said, "You are joking me. That is the craziest thing I ever heard. There are no tent beds in Africa."
I just received Papa and Gigi's itinerary. Tent beds? No. Adventure? Yes. I think Gigi is still a little dumbstruck that she is actually going to Africa after all the years of saying it. So, be careful what you threaten. It's a long way to the moon.
Monday, September 8, 2008
giving and getting
Changing over clothes for the cooler weather (and the bigger boys) is bringing on the urge to purge. I recently got turned onto an awesome grassroots movement called Freecycle that makes this effort easy and fun. In more than 4,500 Freecycle groups across the country, people are giving away the stuff they don't want anymore to other people who do. There's a group right here in our town and every day I receive a digest email that sums up all the stuff people are giving away and all the stuff people want. So far I've claimed a bunch of French storybooks that a kind woman delivered to my door, and just missed on a wheelbarrow full of sod.
I know, I know, I'm supposed to be purging. There's always tomorrow. Check and see if there's a Freecycle group in your town. Keep your money in your pocket and your junk out of the garbage.
I know, I know, I'm supposed to be purging. There's always tomorrow. Check and see if there's a Freecycle group in your town. Keep your money in your pocket and your junk out of the garbage.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
what we're making
:: Books :: I picked up this idea from a couple different sources and it has totally revived Liam's interest in drawing. Basically, I cut several wide strips of paper and fold in half to make a little book. Then I cut a slightly larger cover out of kraft paper or a paper grocery bag, punch two holes in the spine and tie with yarn to make a little book. (Stapling the spine works, too.) I am trying to keep a little stack of these blank books by the art supplies because for some reason if I say, "Why don't you go draw something?" that's a boring suggestion but if I say, "Why don't you go make a book?" I get a big smile, a "Yeah!" and a knee slap. Best of all, I get a stash of little Liam books in return.
:: Faces :: There's something about a cape in this house. All drama. That's because being a superhero is serious business. And it cracks me up.
:: Progress :: Today Elliott climbed up on his knees to get his car off of the couch. I wish I had a photo to show the precious moment but we were too busy clapping and cheering like lunatics. He also pushed up on his hands and knees and rocked for a while. I missed it, but Andrew gave me the play by play. It's funny that although I recorded most of Liam's milestones in a baby book, I feel like they were marked with a simple, "Good job, buddy!" and a proud smile. I don't remember near the thrill we feel with Elliott. Maybe it's because that in addition to excitement, every bit of Elliott's progress brings relief.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
homemade granola
I don't know if it's the start of the school year, the cooler weather kicking in or the fact that Liam ate the Trader Joe's version of a Fig Newton for breakfast, but it's time for some hearty whole grains and honey in this house. I am such a fan of this recipe. Not only because it tastes awesome and is packed with nutrition but because when it's baking, it smells incredible.
Homemade Granola
2 cups rolled oats
1 cup sweetened shredded coconut
3/4 cup slivered or sliced blanched almonds
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup honey
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup unsalted sunflower seeds
2 T ground flaxseed
1 T flax seed oil (optional)
Toss together oats, coconut and almonds. In small bowl, whisk together oil and honey; stir into the oat mixture. Spread out on a rimmed baking sheet and bake at 350 degrees for 17 to 20 minutes until golden brown. Let cool for 10 minutes; stir in flaxseed oil (if using). Let cool completely. Transfer to large bowl and mix in the rest of the ingredients. Great on yogurt, in milk or by the handful.
Homemade Granola
2 cups rolled oats
1 cup sweetened shredded coconut
3/4 cup slivered or sliced blanched almonds
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup honey
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup unsalted sunflower seeds
2 T ground flaxseed
1 T flax seed oil (optional)
Toss together oats, coconut and almonds. In small bowl, whisk together oil and honey; stir into the oat mixture. Spread out on a rimmed baking sheet and bake at 350 degrees for 17 to 20 minutes until golden brown. Let cool for 10 minutes; stir in flaxseed oil (if using). Let cool completely. Transfer to large bowl and mix in the rest of the ingredients. Great on yogurt, in milk or by the handful.
Monday, September 1, 2008
what I learned from A.J. Jacobs, my uncle Dan and 29 hours in the car
On Thursday evening, Andrew and I kissed Liam and Elliott goodbye, hopped in the car and headed for Denver. My cousin was getting married and we had decided a couple months earlier (after confirming with my mom that she would be happy to babysit our kids) that we would turn the occasion into a childless roadtrip and seize the opportunity to reconnect. Seeing that the drive was long and the duration of the getaway short, we decided to catch up on our reading and enjoy some of the time together in the car listening to books on tape.
Thursday night we got several hours under our belt and made it to Des Moines. Friday morning, settling into the car with our coffees, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't brought anything to do. What a waste of time, I thought. I could be embroidering (something I oddly like to do but never have the time to) or knitting. In fact, I actually would have enough time to knit something significant, like a hat (or two!) or part of a sweater. I could move beyond scarves with these kind of hours ahead. What was I thinking?
I briefly considered asking Andrew to pull off in Omaha to look for a Hobby Lobby or the like. But we were trying to make it to Denver for a celebration dinner and time was tight. Plus, I knew he'd never agree. He already thinks I focus too much on doing and accomplishing. And, for crying out loud, this was vacation.
So I sat and tried not to seem irritated with myself as we listened to one of the books we brought, A Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs. I had started reading this book at home so I knew it was funny and clever, but I wasn't expecting to learn much or have it spark an intense and thoughtful discussion that would lead to some significant decisions about how we are spending our time as a family and living our life together. I wasn't expecting to give up my desire to knit so easily.
For the book, Jacobs, a very nominal Jew, read the entire Bible four times through and wrote down every law, rule and suggestion he found in its pages. Then he set off to live "as Biblically as possible." Each day Jacobs tried to focus his actions and behavior on the ten commandments and at least one other more obscure Biblical command. He wore a copy of the commandments on his forehead, tied tassels to the edges of his garments, let his beard go unshaven and tried to avoid clothes of mixed fibers. But he also battled his tendency toward coveting, his struggles with lust and the near impossibility of keeping the Sabbath holy - no working, no email, no cell phone, etc.
As we listened I began thinking about which rules and commandments I follow, which I justify, which I condem others for blowing and which I flat out ignore. In the end, postulates Jacobs, all Christians are cafeteria Christians, picking and choosing what to put on their trays and what to leave behind. In the law-abiding sense, I'd definitely have to agree. Who could do it all and who would want to? Seriously, if Andrew refused to touch me in any way (including sitting in a chair that I had sat in - yes that's in the Bible) seven days a month, I'd probably clock him. But what struck me more than anything in Jacobs' book was how the Bible is not meant to be a rule book. It's meant to tell a story. And it tells lots of them. Crazy stories. Horrifying stories. Sad stories. Incredibly profound stories. And stories so simple and humble, it's easy to miss them. All in all, stories that point us to God.
The stories were not lost on Jacobs. Throughout the book, he tells his wife Bible stories to help them both make sense of their lives, their circumstances, their struggles and their joys. He doesn't do it because the Bible tells him to; he does it because in all his reading and living Biblically he realizes that the stories have a lot to say. More than meets the eye. More, perhaps, than the laws. More than the most Biblically literate among us might be seeing.
Because this is the thing, stories are messy. They have contradictions. But they are how we live. And, even more, how Jesus lived and how he taught. The laws and rules, definitely important to the story. I won't argue that. But, for the most part, we do them alone. And, if we pick the obscure ones to follow, we can probably expect to live alone as well. (Not a lot of camaraderie for a bearded guy in tassels, carrying a staff and the ten commandments strapped to his forehead in modern-day America.)
So, what will our story be? This is what Andrew and I debated and pondered for a few precious hours of our 29 hour drive. We could sanitize it, choose the cast and the setting, and try to write the script in advance. But, truly, one only has to read the Bible one time to know that this is a fool's errand. And even if it "works," where is God in that?
At the wedding we attended, my uncle Dan conducted the ceremony for his daughter and son-in-law and made reference to the Three Dog Night song, "One," which begins, "One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do." His point was that one is, in fact, not the loneliest number if it's done right. It's the least lonely number. Two becoming one in marriage, the church becoming one body, this is what happens when the story is lived, not according to all the rules (although some key ones do help), but in the grace and love and forgiveness of the greatest storyteller of all.
As for these two who became one just about seven years ago, we'll be focusing on some of our newer cafeteria choices, including keeping the Sabbath, with no computers, email or cell phones sundown to sundown (which, for the first couple months, no doubt, will be more competition than holiness), and finding real ways as a family to care for the orphans and the widows. These are just a few of the things we've decided that we hope will shape our kids' stories.
But most importantly we'll be trying to live a story that is full of love and grace and forgiveness. A story that includes and embraces. That questions and doubts. That hopes and prays. And that, by grace, points people to God.
Thursday night we got several hours under our belt and made it to Des Moines. Friday morning, settling into the car with our coffees, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't brought anything to do. What a waste of time, I thought. I could be embroidering (something I oddly like to do but never have the time to) or knitting. In fact, I actually would have enough time to knit something significant, like a hat (or two!) or part of a sweater. I could move beyond scarves with these kind of hours ahead. What was I thinking?
I briefly considered asking Andrew to pull off in Omaha to look for a Hobby Lobby or the like. But we were trying to make it to Denver for a celebration dinner and time was tight. Plus, I knew he'd never agree. He already thinks I focus too much on doing and accomplishing. And, for crying out loud, this was vacation.
So I sat and tried not to seem irritated with myself as we listened to one of the books we brought, A Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs. I had started reading this book at home so I knew it was funny and clever, but I wasn't expecting to learn much or have it spark an intense and thoughtful discussion that would lead to some significant decisions about how we are spending our time as a family and living our life together. I wasn't expecting to give up my desire to knit so easily.
For the book, Jacobs, a very nominal Jew, read the entire Bible four times through and wrote down every law, rule and suggestion he found in its pages. Then he set off to live "as Biblically as possible." Each day Jacobs tried to focus his actions and behavior on the ten commandments and at least one other more obscure Biblical command. He wore a copy of the commandments on his forehead, tied tassels to the edges of his garments, let his beard go unshaven and tried to avoid clothes of mixed fibers. But he also battled his tendency toward coveting, his struggles with lust and the near impossibility of keeping the Sabbath holy - no working, no email, no cell phone, etc.
As we listened I began thinking about which rules and commandments I follow, which I justify, which I condem others for blowing and which I flat out ignore. In the end, postulates Jacobs, all Christians are cafeteria Christians, picking and choosing what to put on their trays and what to leave behind. In the law-abiding sense, I'd definitely have to agree. Who could do it all and who would want to? Seriously, if Andrew refused to touch me in any way (including sitting in a chair that I had sat in - yes that's in the Bible) seven days a month, I'd probably clock him. But what struck me more than anything in Jacobs' book was how the Bible is not meant to be a rule book. It's meant to tell a story. And it tells lots of them. Crazy stories. Horrifying stories. Sad stories. Incredibly profound stories. And stories so simple and humble, it's easy to miss them. All in all, stories that point us to God.
The stories were not lost on Jacobs. Throughout the book, he tells his wife Bible stories to help them both make sense of their lives, their circumstances, their struggles and their joys. He doesn't do it because the Bible tells him to; he does it because in all his reading and living Biblically he realizes that the stories have a lot to say. More than meets the eye. More, perhaps, than the laws. More than the most Biblically literate among us might be seeing.
Because this is the thing, stories are messy. They have contradictions. But they are how we live. And, even more, how Jesus lived and how he taught. The laws and rules, definitely important to the story. I won't argue that. But, for the most part, we do them alone. And, if we pick the obscure ones to follow, we can probably expect to live alone as well. (Not a lot of camaraderie for a bearded guy in tassels, carrying a staff and the ten commandments strapped to his forehead in modern-day America.)
So, what will our story be? This is what Andrew and I debated and pondered for a few precious hours of our 29 hour drive. We could sanitize it, choose the cast and the setting, and try to write the script in advance. But, truly, one only has to read the Bible one time to know that this is a fool's errand. And even if it "works," where is God in that?
At the wedding we attended, my uncle Dan conducted the ceremony for his daughter and son-in-law and made reference to the Three Dog Night song, "One," which begins, "One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do." His point was that one is, in fact, not the loneliest number if it's done right. It's the least lonely number. Two becoming one in marriage, the church becoming one body, this is what happens when the story is lived, not according to all the rules (although some key ones do help), but in the grace and love and forgiveness of the greatest storyteller of all.
As for these two who became one just about seven years ago, we'll be focusing on some of our newer cafeteria choices, including keeping the Sabbath, with no computers, email or cell phones sundown to sundown (which, for the first couple months, no doubt, will be more competition than holiness), and finding real ways as a family to care for the orphans and the widows. These are just a few of the things we've decided that we hope will shape our kids' stories.
But most importantly we'll be trying to live a story that is full of love and grace and forgiveness. A story that includes and embraces. That questions and doubts. That hopes and prays. And that, by grace, points people to God.
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