favorite things :: verses with gaye

Long before Liam and Elliott were born, I had a special dream for my kids - that they would be able to make Bible verse books with my grandma Gaye. One of the few childhood memories I have is of learning 26 verses, A through Z, while making a special book with my grandma, a page for each verse. Who can resist cutting and pasting? But, truly, the undivided attention and praise from my grandma was enough to buoy me for days. And the verses - All we like sheep have gone astray, Be kind one to another, Children obey your parents it's the right thing to do... - have stuck with me all these years.

Now, my wish is coming true. Every other Thursday, Liam has a date with Gaye to learn the famous alphabet verses and make his own treasure of a book. Each visit Liam learns a new verse and Gaye tells him a story to help make the simple truth stick. They sit together at her little table and bend over his notebook together; she spelling out the words, he carefully forming each letter. But the part that gets me, that really takes me back, is how she talks to him - the whole entire time. "I'm so proud of you," she says. "It's great!" "What a good job you're doing." "I love you."

In Gaye's voice is all the love and pride and tenderness a human can contain. In her presence, at that moment, there is no one but my son.

I sit quietly in the adjacent room taking it in, drinking tea, knitting whatever's on my needles and wiping the tears away. If I could only give one gift to my kids, I am sure it would be this.

a simple prayer

This is my son, Lord
He wants to do everything himself
One day I proudly stand aside
Another, I sigh
With my whole body, good luck
Mostly, I take the handle
away

Teach me
How to grasp his little hand
Barely noticed but clinging
still
Like you hold mine
That we might do the impossible
together

unbirthday

For preschool this week, Liam was assigned to bring the snacks. When the note came home last week, it specified that on Thursday they would be celebrating his birthday. Although his birthday is in May and could feasibly be celebrated at preschool during the month it actually happens, I figured they had their reasons and we'd just follow the note and bring a less healthy, more celebratory snack for Thursday.

After school, I picked up Liam and we made a quick detour to Starbucks to buy some ground coffee for the morning. When I realized he was in a great (and talkative) mood, I suggested we sit at a table and share a cookie. I proceeded to ask him about his time at school that afternoon. How was music? Which parent read the stories? Did everyone like the snack?

"Well, AJ didn't like the snack but everyone else did," he said, taking a bite of cookie.

"Did they sing to you?" I asked

He looked at me confused. "No," he said.

"Was it like a party?"

He raised an eyebrow and stopped chewing. "No," he said.

"Well, did they at least say happy birthday?"

He sat back in his chair and gave me a very teenage-like sidelong glance. "Mom," he said, with finality and a slight edge of sympathy, "It is not my birthday."

Yes, well, thanks for clearing that up, honey. And for giving your mom a very long laugh.

craving hot cocoa

On a cold day, I like nothing more than a cup of afternoon tea. But lately I have been craving hot cocoa. This week we made our own mix from a recipe I perfected last winter. Next to melting a bar of Belgian chocolate in a cup of hot milk, I think it's the best.

Homemade Hot Cocoa Mix

2 1/4 cups powdered milk
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup good unsweetened cocoa
1/2 cup non-dairy creamer
1/4 cup powdered sugar
dash of salt

Combine all the ingredients. Mix 3-4 tablespoons in a mug with hot water. Not too sweet. Just yum.

If you're looking for something to read with your cocoa, check out the reflection I wrote today for the Emerging Geneva blog. There is nothing that moves me more than a stranger coming to the aid of someone who can't up their status, wealth or power, of a person who does good in such an insanely generous way it can't go unnoticed, even years later. In this case, the good was done to Andrew, and the gift continues to touch us today.

proud mama

Obama this. McCain that. Who cares anymore? Today, Liam rode a two-wheel bike and, not to be outdone by his big brother, Elliott used the toilet. Oh, yes, big news in the Bordoni home.


For a few weeks Liam's been training on our neighbor's pedal-less trainer bike, pushing himself around the sidewalks like a pro. This afternoon we encouraged Liam to try his real bike. Talk about a thrill. Mom never dreamed watching her boy take his first ride would be such a tearjerker.


Tired of sitting on the sidelines, Elliott also decided to wow his parents today. Before bed his diaper was dry, so I thought we should put him on the little potty and see if he'd do anything. Poor little genius. He just gave us that look that says, "You people, just because I can't walk yet, don't discount my superior intelligence." And he promptly did number one and number two. We were clapping and laughing like crazy people. Elliott, too. I will spare you the potty pictures and give you a couple glimpses of Elliott's other recent achievements - texting and playing piano. Walking is highly overrated.

7 years, 10 things

Seven years ago today - an absolutely exquisite October afternoon - Andrew and I got hitched. Every anniversary since then we've followed a tradition of writing each other a love letter. Although I am not going to post my official love letter here, it did give me the idea to share some things I love about Andrew. Here are ten things:

1. He is easily dumbfounded. I recently learned that Andrew has never gone to a drive-up bank teller. I found this out because I asked him to do it the other day when he was driving and I needed to make a deposit. When we pulled up to the little station where you pull out the tube to put your deposit in, he looked at me with a blank stare and said, "What do I do?" I looked at him with a blank stare and said, "Are you serious?" As I walked him through the process, during which he constantly repeated, "This is so bizzare," I thought, "Wow, I really am married to an alien." Nano nano.

2. He loves to laugh at the stupidist things. The dumbest standup comedians, Saturday Night Live sketches, America's Funniest Home videos, You Tube videos of quadruplet babies belly laughing. He finds it all utterly hilarious. I'm just a little more serious. But he tries. He gets me to smile at stupid stuff, a little. And I love him for it.

3. He really likes my cooking. Other than goat cheese and lentils, he'll eat anything I make. And he always tells me how great it is.

4. He could be bitter and he's not. My husband had zero parent involvement as a kid. He was never baptized (unheard of in an Italian Catholic family), never taken to a dentist and never tucked into bed. Many nights he'd sleep at friends homes and his parents never even knew he wasn't home. Last weekend walking back to our car after Liam participated in a 50 yard dash fundraiser, Andrew commented that he remembered running races like that as a kid and his parents never came to see him. It broke my heart. But he wasn't angry. He just smiled and high-fived Liam, making an unspoken pact that he'd never miss an opportunity to cheer on his son.

5. He loves to see other people make the most out of their gifts. Andrew is an incredible teacher because he loves the kids he teaches. He comes home giddy to play me amazing songs these kids (who had never played guitar before) are recording with their bands. He excitedly tells me who got a music scholarship and mourns for the kid whose parents are pulling him out of lessons to focus on baseball. I asked him once how he'd feel if one of his students signed with a famous band. Would he be disappointed that it wasn't him? He looked at me like I had three heads. "Are you kidding?" he said. "That's the greatest thrill I could have as a teacher - to see my students fulfilling their passions and living their dreams. That's what I'm doing."

6. He takes risks and crosses thresholds. Jumping out of airplanes. Going to church. Getting baptized. Starting his own business. Asking for endorsements (and getting them). Befriending the most diverse group of people and being genuinely interested in everyone's point of view (and challenging most). I am continually surprised and amazed by his bravery and character.

7. He speaks out but doesn't cross the line. Whenever I see an email from Andrew that is written to my family about politics or religion (and there are many), I hold my breath while I read. I am a pleaser. I never want anyone to be offended or hurt or upset. My husband is not. But every time I read his words, I love him more. He writes from his heart. He is smart and thoughtful and (I think) insightful. Although not a pleaser, he is a lover. And it shows.

8. He rocks. There is not much better than seeing Andrew play his heart out with a band - on a big outdoor stage, a little crowded bar or a Sunday morning in church. Every time he shreds or strums, I think I am married to the most talented, hottest guitarist alive.

9. He loves his boys as much as a human possibly can. He plays, discovers, draws, colors, decorates, builds, throws, runs, makes lunch, cleans up, reads, laughs, snuggles, and more. He is the awesome, incredible dad he never had and he wouldn't have it any other way.

10. There is no place he'd rather be than home. If given a choice, Andrew will always, always choose to be with me. He will gladly pass up any other offer to hang with his wife. Now, that, my friends, is true love.

favorite things :: homemade applesauce and worms

For as long as I can remember, my grandma Gaye has made the world's best applesauce. For many years during apple season, she and my grandpa would churn apples by the bushel, packing their freezer and many of their kids' freezers with gallons of homemade applesauce. Even today when I pop in to see my grandma, she is ready to greet us with a dish of freshly made sauce.

I am proud to say that for the past decade, when apple season rolls around, I happily churn out sauce of my own. (Usually by the half peck, not the bushel!)

I use my grandma's not-so-secret recipe - just plain old apples: core, skin and all. I have never seen a recipe like this in any cookbook or magazine. Most saucing recipes require coring and peeling. But I swear this is what leaves other sauces lacking - in taste and nutrition. My grandma's process takes a bit of elbow grease (as my many cousins who have processed bushels with her will attest) but it is totally worth the effort. Here's what you do:

1. Wash and half about 8-10 apples. Cortland are my favorite. Jonathan are also good. Any apple that cooks up soft will work but you want one with good flavor.

2. Cut out top and bottom part of the stem of each half and put the apples in a big pot. Cover with about 1/4 inch of water (enough to just cover the bottom of the pan), put on the lid and simmer over medium-low heat on the stovetop.

3. After about half hour or less, the apples will be mushy. Turn off the heat. According to my grandma, the nutrients escape in the steam, so don't lift the lid of the pot until it's cooled (if you can help it). The scent is SO incredible, it's hard to resist.

4. When cool, scoop about 1/3 of the apples into a sieve (like the one shown below, which you can usually find at a local hardware store) and mash/churn/press the apples through the sieve with the wooden stick thing (also shown below). Use a rubber spatula to scoop the skins and seeds out of the sieve and process the rest of the apples (using everything that's in the pan).

Although so little of the apple is wasted in the end, it is still kind of hard to toss the mash of skin and seeds. It's so deliciously fragrant and when you've effectively sauced the rest of the apples so well, well, you hate to see anything go.

This week, for the first time, our apple skins and seeds were eaten! Not by us but by our worms. Thanks to my friend Megan, we have started worm composting in the basement. Every week we feed our worms our fruit and vegetable scraps and in a couple months they will reward us with "black gold" - the most nutrient-rich soil possible. Liam loves to feed the worms and even I find it pretty incredible to see how they plow through our garbage so quickly, leaving all the dark, fertile castings behind. I imagine they must have thought they had died and gone to heaven when we buried that sweet apple mash for them last night.

Once we plant an apple tree in our backyard, our cycle of life will be complete. On my dream farm, I definitely will do this. In the meantime, I just thank God I was blessed enough to learn from a farmgirl. Thanks, Gaye.

signs of the season

This morning we were greeted by a live halloween decoration right outside the dining room window, and he hasn't budged all day. About the size of quarter, he is by far the largest arachnid we've seen around these parts.


After some furniture rearranging early in the day, Liam's creativity was reignited by the craft table moving from porch to living room. He promptly cut strips of paper, gathered stamps, confetti and glue and started making "decorations."



Later in the day, in search of apples, we made an unplanned trip to a local pumpkin/apple/pony ride spot. Due to the Columbus day crowds and the sticker shock, we opted out of the pony ride but had fun trying out the tractor and hugging the pumpkins. Maybe tomorrow, applesauce.

autumn walking (from a 4-year-old perspective)

Today I enjoyed an autumn walking post on one of my favorite blogs and was inspired to try to capture some of the fall beauty in our neighborhood when we headed out for a family stroll. However, Liam immediately spied the camera, so the tour took on a different kind of artistry. Other than the closeups of every political yard sign we passed, he did a better job than I ever could have.

cost cutting

Lately we've been looking for ways to save money. Starting Liam shaving at age 4 is not one of them, but cutting hair at home is. (Very needed as this photo shows!) For most of Liam's life, I have paid $20 a shot to have a stylist cut his hair every eight weeks or so. Most would think this price excessive for a boy's haircut but this isn't just any boy hair. Liam has some of the thickest and most beautiful hair of any boy I know. It takes a stylist longer to give his hair a trim than it does to totally style mine.

I have had a little experience cutting hair. In college I gave a potential love interest a ROTC haircut. It didn't go well (although he dated me anyway). I also had my own hair chopped off in kindergarten by a fellow student - from ponytails to pixie in minutes flat. Needless to say I don't have a lot of confidence around scissors.

But $120 a year is a small chunk of change we could spend elsewhere, so I followed a great blog tutorial on how to cut a little boy's hair and gave it a try. Liam was such a great sport, sitting still for over a half hour while I repeated over and over, "Just about finished, honey." He sat happily listening to "his" music (female-fronted progressive metal), anticipating the Twix bar he would get when the job was completed. It was a pretty special time and the result was, well, not too shabby. That's the thing about cutting expenses - sometimes you end up with a whole lot more than money in the bank.

while eating a caramel apple

"Hey, Dad," said Liam, taking a bite. "Did you know that this is a poison apple?"

"I hope not. Because if it is you'll fall into a deep sleep and will only be awakened by a magic kiss from a princess."

"Daaaaaad," Liam laughed.

"If that did happen, Liam, who would be your princess?"

Without a second thought, Liam replied, "Wonder Woman."

the lure of the boob tube

Soon after my little sister was born (happy birthday, Liz!), I remember my stepmom adamantly asserting that she was not going to allow Liz to have Barbies. I felt a little hurt by the remark. Afterall, I had loved Barbies and didn't think they had adversely affected me. But mostly I thought, good luck with that. Keeping girls from Barbies (or whatever they have evolved into today) is like keeping kids from the screen. A nice aspiration but, if you've got a TV in your home, a nearly impossible reality.

However, not by plan or decree, Elliott has not seen a program or video in his first 17 months. In fact, these photos, taken a couple days ago, document the very first time Elliott sat still and truly watched TV. His brother obviously has a little more experience.

I mourned just a little to see the second one succumb to the lure of the boob tube. But I'm sure a little of that mind-numbing screen time won't ruin them. Afterall, their aunt Liz turned out to be an amazing woman and, yes, she owned her fair share of Barbies.

good intentions

Usually, I throw catalogs into the recycling bag as soon as they arrive in the mail. Why be disappointed or tempted by things we can't afford? This week, however, Liam fished the Pottery Barn Kids catalog out of the mail pile in the dining room, and I found him comfortably reclining on the couch giving it a look. No surprise, he was engrossed in the Halloween section.

As he was showing me all the items he wanted, I found myself wishing I could get him something, even contemplating something "reasonable," like the pumpkin-design puffy treat bag he pointed out. A mere $12, which is cheap by Pottery Barn standards. Even though a puffy treat bag is the last thing I need to be spending money on, it seemed a small amount to satisfy a kid who adores Halloween.

This morning I attended an event put on by my cousins Chris and Alli to promote Hope International, an organization that provides microloans to entrepreneurs living in poverty in the developing world. The one sentence Chris said that has been running through my head all day is this: "Our good intentions rob the poor of the opportunity to be givers." In other words, when we just give people handouts and we do it repeatedly, as "good" as our intentions are, we are just creating dependency and we are not giving people the opportunity to become self-sufficient and, in turn, to be able to give back. Chris recounted compelling stories of people who had benefitted from Hope's microloan program, creating thriving businesses and pulling themselves out of poverty and then blessing other people in their communities in huge ways. One woman in Congo, a single mom with six kids, went on to adopt four orphans in her community after she rose out of poverty. Another woman in the Dominican Republic used the money from her successful, microloan-funded sewing business to start a school in her home and then pulled her community together to build a school for kids who are the poorest or the poor - over 400 of them.

Today I decided we would do well to apply the Hope principles to our family. Every parent want their children to be happy. We want to be sure they have what they need and, when possible, what they want. But there is a downside to satisfying wants and whims. They don't really satisfy. Our good intentions create kids who feel entitled to whatever they want to buy or do or not do. As a music teacher, Andrew struggles against this all the time. The majority of kids are unmotivated, uninspired, selfish and downright rude. And based on the experiences of other teachers I've heard from, I don't think this is an overgeneralization.

As a parent or a charitable organization, good intentions often equate to taking the easy way out. It is probably easier to repeatedly deliver food and clothing and medicines to a community in need than it is to set up a meaningful, efficient and successful system for dispersing microloans and ensuring that borrowers have the support, relational collateral and motivation to pay them back (over 99% of Hope's loan recipients do). It is also certainly easier as a parent to just give your child what he or she wants than find a different way to address the desire.

Since we didn't order the treat bag this week, I proposed to Liam that we make our own. Truthfully, I wasn't thrilled about the idea at first - the mess, the possibility it wouldn't work out well - but I shut off my editor and went for it anyway. I had a sudden brainstorm to try something out of papier mache. So, with a balloon, newspaper strips, flour, water and paint, we came up with an alternative to the puffy treat bag. There was a lot of waiting between steps and wondering whether the thing would even turn out at all. But the resulting creation has brought out pride (I made this!), deeper creativity (Can we make a mummy costume out of this stuff?), laughter (It's a pig pumpkin! - in case you can't tell), togetherness (Mom and Liam on the papier mache, Dad and Liam on the painting, Liam and "Banjo" on the face), problem solving (What to do about the handle?) and a giving spirit (Elliott needs a treat bag!).

All week I thought I was just saving $12. Thanks Chris and Alli for helping me see the bigger lesson.