well, I'll be a monkey's uncle

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.