A Life Like This One

And then, she was a little girl

inside::

outside::

Oh, this little girl with a great big personality.  What would we do without her?

Yeah. I don't know either.

around the sun we go

**Two days from now, this post will officially be two months in the making...I wrote it on April 3, never got around to adding photos, and planned to delete it. Except this week is graduation in our small town, and our weekly newspaper had the honor of printing of commencement speeches delivered by two local kids graduating from colleges on both coasts-- and well, it's all got me misty eyed and wondering where the time goes.  So I'm sending this little love note into the world, just because. 

 

12 years.

12 years since this baby

took his slow, sweet time coming into this world (a pace, I might add, that has never changed).

12 years marks the before and after-- the defining second in my life when time stood not still, but together-- when I felt an ancient power and trust surge through me, carrying Noah into this world and making me be born again too, from child to mother.

12 years.

Of discovery.

Of joy and heartbreak and late nights and early mornings and magic and words and silent knowings. 

Of believing in a better future, and wondering what I did to get so lucky 

because being this boy's mom?  It's a special kind of blessing.

12 years ago, I was so clueless.  Somedays, I still am.  All days, he's patient, wise, and when need be, forgiving.  It's funny; I'm his teacher, but my, how very much I learn from his heart. 

12 times around the sun.  I'm so grateful.

Happy birthday, Noah.  We sure do love you.

Look Dick and Jane! See Max. See Max Read!

It's official.  Reader number four has entered the building.  

Last night, we gathered on the couch for a very important family meeting. 

 

Max read us his first full book.  All 31 amazing pages of Dick and Jane, "We Look."  And I could not have happier, to see my sweet boy so excited as he read each word on his own, his sister giggling ("silly Sally!") and his brother cheering him on each time he stopped and started again.  

It seems like only yesterday we were gathering around, a family for four, to hear Noah read his first book (although he was quite a bit older, and the choice was fittingly Calvin and Hobbes).  Now, he's reading the Odyssey and writing stories all of his own.  How quickly time passes.  And how lucky we are to be a family of growing bookworms.

I was thinking about the progression of Max's foray into the world of written words.  He, like Noah, was never pushed to read.  Instead of really "working" with Max on his letters or sounds on a daily basis, curiosity dictated what, when, and how he learned.  Here's a few of the ideas we used frequently.

Learning letters 

Story Cards

Journaling 

and lots of play inspired by books (like riding a pony across the prairie, ala Little House).

I think the more we read, play, and simply keep books available in our home, the more reading becomes a natural progression, much like all the other milestones our children reach.  

It is a beautiful thing, to simply trust a love of words will come....because my, it happens in the blink of an eye.

starts and stops

A few short days into spring and I'm typing while huddled on the hearth.  There are wisps of snow swirling in frenetic circles on our driveway, leaving traces like white sand mandalas behind.  A moving wall of snow stretches from ground to sky, mostly heading east, but sometimes west or south, and the wind howls, frustrated and indesicive. 

A season of in betweens.  Bikes and skis.  Woolies and shorts.  Ice cream and hot chocolate. Starts and stops.  I pulled some images the other day from a rare solo evening ski.  It was 55-degrees and sunny when I sat down to write about that moment, so I tucked the pictures away again and instead took photos of soccer balls and puddle jumpers.

But today, amidst the snow, and freelance deadlines, and a general unrest that settles into my bones this time of year, I'm pulling those photos out to share here.  They remind me three things I want to hold most dear in these days of ever-correcting the balance:

::Simple is always best.

::Be grateful-- and express that gratitude out loud-- when my partner understands the need for rejuvenating moments alone, and makes them happen.

::Sometimes, our paths have to take new turns. And if we breathe through it, if we trust ourselves enough, we can follow with joy.  

Because in our full days and long to do lists, sometimes we forget to notice.

And when all is said and done, I think, life really is all about the noticing, isn't it?

Wishing you warmth and moments of whatever it is you need today.

Settling in

Hello out there!

Sometimes, we're quiet so long, there's too much to say. Perhaps I'll tread lightly back to this space, where the mama I want to be and the mama I am seem to meet in the middle, long enough to take a deep breath and see the beauty of what's around me. Like now, sitting on the hearth, watching three children and two dogs, still in their sleep. Their faces light with each blink of the fire.  

In the past two months, I have::

::watched my sweet boy struggle and heal with grace

::taken on the role of news editor at my local, small town weekly paper, a job I can do entirely from home, focusing on community building and love for a place like this one

:: cried a little because the word balance has yet to escape my lips with a positive connotation.  We're working through, all of us, trying to be gentle in the meltdowns and joyful in the moments like this

(we've been living and breathing little house)

and this

and this...celebrating, after eight long weeks, a little of biped mobility

 

I'll be in and out as I'm able.  Perhaps next time with more words. Because as much as they spill out for work these days, there is something to being here that I crave on quiet nights by the fire.  

Merry Everything.

A week can feel like a much more when our days and nights are so full-- full of crafting and family, friends and the fun of welcoming winter-- and I'm struggling to put into words all that we've been up to since the days before solstice.  So instead, here's a little bit of the goodness that's been going on around these parts....

(um, yes....that IS a bike made from bottlecaps. My kids were so excited to make it...)

 

And now....we're welcoming the return of the light.

 

while being so top secret

Somewhere between sliced almonds and bulk oats last night, I took a good look at Lizzie and Max, who were accompanying me on a last minute run-to-the-co-op-because-it's-member-appreciation-day-and-we-still-need-to-bake-extra-granola-and-peppermint-bark (whew).  And by a good look, I mean I finally noticed that the side of my little girl's cheek was streaked blue.  And Max's fingers were a rainbow of paint.  Oh, and he had a glop of glitter stuck to his knee.  

Maybe some moms would have rushed their kids to the nearest bathroom in embarrassment.  Or at least whispered, "stick your hands in your pockets" while doing the spit-and-wipe to clean them up.  Maybe I would have done a little of that too if Max wasn't skipping down the aisle, quietly singing "elves on a mission, granola's our tradition..."  

Yes.  We are elves on a mission.  

And we are in the thick of a furry of crafting, baking, scheming and making that will fill our school days from now until Christmas.  Most of what we're doing, well, we just can't show you yet (too many recipients would *totally* cheat and read what they were getting. You know who you are).   

In the meantime, take a look at our advent/nativity table.  

Every year, I tell myself we're going to buy a *real* creche-- one that is wooden and beautiful and will serve as a keepsake for my children in years to come. But every year, when it comes time to start setting the stage, well, I fall in love with this one all over again. This manger, made by dimpled little hands with tongue depressors and glue. The salt dough animals that are 18 times bigger than the manger itself (and are unavailable for photo as they are busy being used to entertain Max's fish upstairs, apparently).  The clothespin people; wise men in cloaks made of-- ready for this? old underwear-- and Mary, wrapped in a piece of the same sheets I slept in when my first born was a baby.  Yes, this creche is a little on the rag-tag side.  It's a little haphazard.  It's a little bit of a mess.  

It's become my reminder. For many things.  

Each week, we add another candle and a little more of the nativity scene.  On the first Sunday, we added the manger and the rocks and greens to celebrate our connection to the natural world.  The second Sunday brings the animals. The wise men enter on the third.  On Christmas eve morning, we add Mary and Joseph. Christmas eve night brings the angel and popsicle stick cradle, and on Christmas morning, the babe.  

I never remember to capture that moment, when my kids are huddled around their creche, admiring and giggling and rejoicing in its completeness.  I'll be the first to admit: it isn't all that holy of an event.

"I loved those surfboard underwear," Noah  remarks while nodding toward a wise man, to which Max always breaks into hysterics and says something along the lines of "underwear...hahahaha....cape....hahaha....underwear!"  While Lizzie laughs because, well, her brothers are laughing.   

But that's what the advent season is all about, when it comes down to it.  The bursting joy of a child.  The way all things feel new again through their eyes and hearts and yes, silliness too.  I think the spirit of the season runs through me most right then: when the deep gratitude for my family, for my miracle of motherhood is so very clear.

A deep breath

diving into deadlines and a workshop buzzing with the cutest elves I've ever seen today.  But wanted to share this:

 \

"Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time."  ~Laura Ingalls Wilder

hello snow.

Ah, winter, you've come home.

 

We've been waiting, sort of patiently, for our house to feel like the center of a snow globe. Despite the spikes of green still visible beneath a wispy layer of white, this family has kept right on moving into the groove of the season: skiing, sledding, walks through the quiet woods.  

Two nights ago, we hunkered down at the foot of the fire and listened to gusts reach like claws down the chimney. We watched the dark night grow lighter with ghost trails of snow swirling past the windows.  We fell asleep hoping. And we woke up to the first real storm of the winter. At last.

 

Can you tell my kids (and husband) stay out until they are human popsicles? In honor of our old friend's return, we whipped up some maple syrup candy.  Of course, this *should* be a springtime snack-- made during the days when the syrup is running-- but we still have a bottle filled from our fall trip through Vermont, and we were so excited to see the snow and we've been re-reading the Little House in the Big Woods....and well....um it IS snow+syrup=candy. How could I refuse?

Sugar Snow Candy

Pack a plate of fresh snow ("no yellow!" Max would like to remind you).

Pour some maple syrup into a small pot and slowly bring to a rolling boil.  Watch it carefully, as it doesn't need stirring but shouldn't boil hard.  Eventually, it will begin to bubble...

 

and bubble....

and bubble....

After about seven minutes, the big bubbles will recede and the syrup will take on a more uniform, cohesive look-- time to pour!

Pour it into the pan of snow in thin, swirling circles or designs of your choosing.  Let it rest for about 15 seconds and you can pull out your candy.  

You can lay it to dry on a sheet of parchment paper, or go ahead and eat it while still ooey-gooey.  Any syrup snow that doesn't turn to candy can be set back outside and used later to cool down hot cocoa.  Do this only if you are the kind of mother who allows so much sweet snacking on a snowy day...Ahem.... 

P.S.

A long day of playing outside in blizzard conditions makes for crabby, tired kiddos.  Our Advent Sunday candles almost weren't lit at all-- electricity makes for faster bedtime routines and I was, simply put, fried-- but when Justin walked through our little house, darkening rooms and gathering candles, something shifted.  We all found ourselves on the floor beside the raging fire.  Someone grabbed a board game. My husband handed me a steaming cup of decaf (okay, with a hint of Bailey's), and each of my children were giggling in turn as we played. Together. Yes, it wasn't long before Elizabeth melted again and I had to drift to bed with her...but still-- the regroup, the soft light, the slow down...it was enough to remind me that some new traditions are worth holding onto.  

One for the road

I am so. excited. This morning, I'm setting off for a few hours with a dear friend to run errands that include, but aren't limited to, the fabric store, the art store, coffee shop, book store, and...well...anywhere else we need to stop. Why? Because these two mamas with six kids between us are stepping out without a single little person.  

It's the kind of morning where the long to-do list may feel a wee bit shorter, but we'll need that boost of get it done energy all the same.  The kind of morning that requires a shot of protein goodness in the form of a peanut butter smoothie.

That's right, I said it: peanut butter+smoothie= heaven in a glass.

To make:

1 cup of greek yogurt (I use this because it's packed-- 23 grams!-- with protein, but of course, mamas who make their own should substitute...because made from scratch is always best, right?

1 heaping tablespoon of peanut butter

a squirt of agave 

enough milk to make it smooth

and a chopped, then frozen, banana

put all ingredients in the blender and hit liquify.