"We'd like to have baby," read my sister's text message on Saturday morning. WHAT?!? Really? You're ditching the grad school plans after all and furnishing me with a niece or nephew? Giving my kids some wee cousins to dote on? Can I start shopping for slings? Can I cut the umbilical cord?
Wait a sec. WHY is she notifying me of this major life reversal via text?
Oh. She's responding to our conversation about having Caroline spend the night. Caroline is so firmly entrenched as "Baby" in the minds of her aunt and uncle that they'll probably be toasting her as such at her wedding rehearsal dinner.
So yes, Baby did have her very own sleepover with Uncle Allen and Aunt Kristen this weekend. She was reportedly the ideal guest, exclaiming "YIPPEE!" to everything they proposed, from pancakes for breakfast to going to the church meeting in the morning, and informing me of my sister's morning habits. "We snuggled in the bed and then we stretched like THIS and then we had little blue Altoids."
Meanwhile, her brother was enjoying our dinner guests, the Dixons and their three boys, and her sister was being carried away into a vortex of whirling girliness at the Girls' Night Out hosted by her dance studio. Pizza! Watching The Parent Trap! Making candy canes out of pipe cleaners! Playing some game called "Sally Walker!" Arriving home at 10:15 p.m. with fingernails painted alternately blue and pink! Can it get any better? Nope. For a five year old girl, folks, especially one who attends with her best friend, this is NIRVANA.
And I was so proud of my shy girl for deciding to go and for jumping into the fray when she arrived with nary a backward glance. And proud of my smaller girl for falling asleep without me and not skipping a beat when she woke up and found some one other than Mommy and Daddy in the bed.
It's funny, when you're with your kids all day, every day, surrounded by their often-intense needs and just sheer neediness. You feel like the gravity holding their personal universe together. Then they launch into the world for a few hours, taking practice flights under someone else's loving eye, and because you haven't figured out how to scale yourself down to the size of a fly and spy on them all night, you don't know every single thing they're saying and doing and feeling. You only know they're fluttering around with pieces of your own heart hidden under their wings. And because they know where the nest is and where and when they can return, you know they'll be just fine.
Besides, even gravity needs a break now and then. It ain't easy, holding a universe together.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
Books of the Week
Besides math and Latin work, there wasn't a whole lot of what might look like schoolwork around here this week. But we sure enjoyed some good books! Here's this past week's menu:
(I'm posting the Amazon pics with links because I don't know how to just post the pictures and have them link in case anyone wants more info. Sorry for the shopping list look.)
We're re-reading this. If you haven't, you must. It's a gem of way to learn Great Lakes-area geography. Ian now knows the HOMES acronym that I learned at his age, so he can rattle off the names of the Great Lakes. But that's much less important than the amazing pencil drawings and humdinger of a story.
Heartwarming but not sappy grandmother/grandson bonding tale.
Oh, too fun! Who can resist Tasha Tudor's illustrations? It's a great story, too, and excellent for vocabulary-building, as Ms. Tudor doesn't talk down to the wee folk. A picture book, but more for 4-8 crowd, not so much the toddlers.
Ian's required reading this week.
Oh boy! We sure do love Kevin Henkes in this household! Lilly, Chrysanthemum, Wendell, they all make us chortle.
I think this book is to nature study what Paddle to the Sea is to geography. It weaves facts about elephant beetles, caterpillars, and whatnot into a gentle story with an old-fashioned feeling to it. Makes me want to pay better attention outdoors, and I'm hoping the children feel the same.
Cute story about manners. Thank you, Fergie. Oh, and we love the illustrator Robin Preiss Glasser.
If you have young girls, you've probably already been introduced to Fancy Nancy. As for the illustrator, see above.
Oooh! A new Penderwicks books, snatched up at the library! I'm already into it, although the plan is to share it with Ian very soon. What a great batch of characters.
This is a Daddy-Eliza thing. It's Farmer Boy. 'Nuf said.
(I'm posting the Amazon pics with links because I don't know how to just post the pictures and have them link in case anyone wants more info. Sorry for the shopping list look.)
We're re-reading this. If you haven't, you must. It's a gem of way to learn Great Lakes-area geography. Ian now knows the HOMES acronym that I learned at his age, so he can rattle off the names of the Great Lakes. But that's much less important than the amazing pencil drawings and humdinger of a story.
Heartwarming but not sappy grandmother/grandson bonding tale.
Oh, too fun! Who can resist Tasha Tudor's illustrations? It's a great story, too, and excellent for vocabulary-building, as Ms. Tudor doesn't talk down to the wee folk. A picture book, but more for 4-8 crowd, not so much the toddlers.
Ian's required reading this week.
Oh boy! We sure do love Kevin Henkes in this household! Lilly, Chrysanthemum, Wendell, they all make us chortle.
I think this book is to nature study what Paddle to the Sea is to geography. It weaves facts about elephant beetles, caterpillars, and whatnot into a gentle story with an old-fashioned feeling to it. Makes me want to pay better attention outdoors, and I'm hoping the children feel the same.
Cute story about manners. Thank you, Fergie. Oh, and we love the illustrator Robin Preiss Glasser.
If you have young girls, you've probably already been introduced to Fancy Nancy. As for the illustrator, see above.
Oooh! A new Penderwicks books, snatched up at the library! I'm already into it, although the plan is to share it with Ian very soon. What a great batch of characters.
This is a Daddy-Eliza thing. It's Farmer Boy. 'Nuf said.
Biserable Bobba
So apparently my once-mighty immune system is now a brittle shell of its former self, because after that dreadful bout with sinusitis, I have had the mother of all head colds for the past five days. It's gotten so unpleasant that I actually yielded to the gentle peer pressure exerted by the other large person in this household and used the Neti Pot. Twice.
I'm convinced this was a technique used at Guantanamo Bay. Tim had to help me, so basically, the love of my life was waterboarding me, trying to move that ocean of sludge on through while I used my childbirth breathing techniques to remain calm.
So, at length I yield. UNCLE! On the agenda this morning? Mama lies on her bed reading books to whomever wants to listen. We got about fifty of them at the library yesterday. Notably missing from the schedule? Housework. The co-op planning meeting. Any and all errands. Except for the acupuncturist this afternoon.
Off to drown my sorrows in some lemon tea and stuff my offspring with echinacea and Vitamin C.
I'm convinced this was a technique used at Guantanamo Bay. Tim had to help me, so basically, the love of my life was waterboarding me, trying to move that ocean of sludge on through while I used my childbirth breathing techniques to remain calm.
So, at length I yield. UNCLE! On the agenda this morning? Mama lies on her bed reading books to whomever wants to listen. We got about fifty of them at the library yesterday. Notably missing from the schedule? Housework. The co-op planning meeting. Any and all errands. Except for the acupuncturist this afternoon.
Off to drown my sorrows in some lemon tea and stuff my offspring with echinacea and Vitamin C.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Letters Home
Dear Grandmommy*,
Thank you so much for the dresses you snatched up for us during the Hanna Andersson sale.
I wish you lived closer so we could have tea parties together (Good Earth tea, of course), but in the meantime, I'm practicing my twirling.
Also, thanks for the goodies and books for our 3.5-day drive home. We read one of the books, Snowed in with Grandmother Silk, this morning in the front yard on Opa's** baby quilt. This is what Caroline did while Mama was lying on her back reading to me.
Love,
Eliza
Dear Papa***,
Wasn't it so fun when I was helping Daddy put your slippers on in the bathroom last week and when I was finished, I told you that you looked nice and fancy? Now that I'm gone, I hope you have someone to help you look fancy.
And remember when we took a walk up to the animal shelter together?
We were going to see Rosie the pig, but you ended up with a rooster on your lap. Plus me. That was wow! amazing! (as I love to exclaim).
Love,
Dear Nonnie**** and Aunt Kristen,
It was so perfect to pull into our driveway after hours and days of driving and find that you had come over and cleaned our house so we'd have something nice to come home too. You are the best! Our Mom was super happy about that.
And sorry about smearing bronze glitter glue all over the potty seat and scaring you into thinking it was us being incontinent in a #2 sort of way. We can't help our addiction to glitter glue. Thanks for cleaning it up, though.
Love,
Eliza and Caroline
* My mom
** My FIL
*** My dad
**** My MIL
Thank you so much for the dresses you snatched up for us during the Hanna Andersson sale.
I wish you lived closer so we could have tea parties together (Good Earth tea, of course), but in the meantime, I'm practicing my twirling.
Also, thanks for the goodies and books for our 3.5-day drive home. We read one of the books, Snowed in with Grandmother Silk, this morning in the front yard on Opa's** baby quilt. This is what Caroline did while Mama was lying on her back reading to me.
Love,
Eliza
Dear Papa***,
Wasn't it so fun when I was helping Daddy put your slippers on in the bathroom last week and when I was finished, I told you that you looked nice and fancy? Now that I'm gone, I hope you have someone to help you look fancy.
And remember when we took a walk up to the animal shelter together?
We were going to see Rosie the pig, but you ended up with a rooster on your lap. Plus me. That was wow! amazing! (as I love to exclaim).
Love,
Dear Nonnie**** and Aunt Kristen,
It was so perfect to pull into our driveway after hours and days of driving and find that you had come over and cleaned our house so we'd have something nice to come home too. You are the best! Our Mom was super happy about that.
And sorry about smearing bronze glitter glue all over the potty seat and scaring you into thinking it was us being incontinent in a #2 sort of way. We can't help our addiction to glitter glue. Thanks for cleaning it up, though.
Love,
Eliza and Caroline
* My mom
** My FIL
*** My dad
**** My MIL
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Fragile
I hardly know my own heart today.
Wait, let me back up.
Two nights ago, we stayed in none other than Scranton, PA, which means nothing to you if you don't watch The Office, but if you do, means A LOT. We stayed at the Clarion Hotel because it had an indoor pool, but from our window I could see Schrute Farms Bed and Breakfast. Well, almost. Let's just say I could, on a subconscious level, detect the presence of fresh beets in the area.
So last night we sort of fulfilled a 3-year fantasy and returned to Simpsonville, SC, where we lived for five years. It was only a tiny bit out of our way, and we spent the night with Brian and Jessica Collins, some of our dearest friends from our time there (If you happen to be reading this and you're another of our friends from that area, be not offended that we didn't drop in on you. Time was extremely limited.)
Our kids and theirs hadn't seen each other in three years -- we last hugged each other goodbye at the farewell party we threw at Pump It Up for all of our friends the day before we left South Carolina. (I highly recommend this idea to all families who are moving out of town. That was the most stressful weekend of our entire lives, and to emerge from a packing/house-selling/newborn-baby-with-medical-issues/self-recovering-from-pneumonia NIGHTMARE and show up at your own party where no one has to do anything except jump on large bouncy things and eat pizza and have such a blast that no one's crying when we say goodbye? Priceless.) Oh, actually, in the middle of that nightmare weekend, which ALSO happened to be New Year's Eve and Day, Brian and Jess organized a surprise restaurant dinner for us with all the couples from our playgroup, with our combined thirteen children being babysat at their house by three reliable teenagers. So I have painted a sufficient picture of their unutterable coolness as friends?
Anyway, it was like we'd never been gone today. The kids were romping together as soon as the sun came up, and then we all lounged around the table eating a giant breakfast made by Brian, and talking until way past the time we'd agreed to leave. And then, competing to out-thank one another for a time of blessing that was all too short.
After we left their house this morning, we drove through our former small town, noting what had changed (not a whole lot) and what remained the same. I'm not sure what's the most unnerving -- that which changes when we move on, or that which stays the same, apparently heedless of your absence. We passed the toy store where I used to take Ian to play with all the Thomas trains on long, rainy days, the Publix where we did most of our grocery shopping (and always saw someone we knew), the post office where the clerk made me promise to come back and visit (yes, we lived in a small town).
We drove into our old neighborhood, almost thankful for the chilly rain that seemed to dim its considerable charms. The kids' memories came flooding back as we passed the playground, the duck pond, the pool, the clubhouse where I taught music group for three years. We passed our babysitter's house and saw a car parked in the driveway that could very well be hers, now that she's probably started college.
And then there it was -- our house. The house where we brought our four-month-old baby boy, and where I later gave birth to my daughters in the garden tub upstairs. The maples we had planted were wearing their fall splendor in the front yard, the hydrangeas shriveled in advance of winter's frost. We could glimpse the backyard, bereft of the playscape but still adorned with the tree we planted over Eliza's placenta. There were the blueberry bushes, stark and fruitless in the cold drizzle, but reminiscent of the gallons, purple and abundant, that we harvested our last summer there. In the woods behind the house, the trees all glowed red and orange in the rain, and I knew exactly what that glorious view from the wall of kitchen windows would be right now.
There was a car parked in the driveway, but we didn't have the gumption to go ring the bell. Next door we could see the same cars, marking the presence of our former neighbors and bringing to mind the time the wife, Gwenn, called me on my cell phone while we were in Charleston for a long weekend. "Did y'all mean to leave your back door wide open? ... Ah, I didn't think so. Bill's on his way over to shut it right now."
I left a note for one neighbor, knowing they'd be filling a pew at First Baptist at that moment, and we drove past a couple other houses where, if we only had a couple hours to stop, I could easily have gone and knocked on their doors. It felt terrible to just drive on by, but I knew a five-minute "hello" would never do.
As we made our way back to the highway, I felt so torn, with our past thrust so poignantly into our faces and hearts. The struggle to reconcile a kind of longing with the knowledge that in so many ways, we have moved on, left me at a loss for words. Eventually, Tim remarked quite perceptively, "In a way, I really miss it, but I don't regret the choice we made."
Regret, no, since there's a peace that comes from following the Lamb whereever He may go. Yet the heart, its trailing root hairs exposed now and then, never is a tidy little package, is it?
Wait, let me back up.
Two nights ago, we stayed in none other than Scranton, PA, which means nothing to you if you don't watch The Office, but if you do, means A LOT. We stayed at the Clarion Hotel because it had an indoor pool, but from our window I could see Schrute Farms Bed and Breakfast. Well, almost. Let's just say I could, on a subconscious level, detect the presence of fresh beets in the area.
So last night we sort of fulfilled a 3-year fantasy and returned to Simpsonville, SC, where we lived for five years. It was only a tiny bit out of our way, and we spent the night with Brian and Jessica Collins, some of our dearest friends from our time there (If you happen to be reading this and you're another of our friends from that area, be not offended that we didn't drop in on you. Time was extremely limited.)
Our kids and theirs hadn't seen each other in three years -- we last hugged each other goodbye at the farewell party we threw at Pump It Up for all of our friends the day before we left South Carolina. (I highly recommend this idea to all families who are moving out of town. That was the most stressful weekend of our entire lives, and to emerge from a packing/house-selling/newborn-baby-with-medical-issues/self-recovering-from-pneumonia NIGHTMARE and show up at your own party where no one has to do anything except jump on large bouncy things and eat pizza and have such a blast that no one's crying when we say goodbye? Priceless.) Oh, actually, in the middle of that nightmare weekend, which ALSO happened to be New Year's Eve and Day, Brian and Jess organized a surprise restaurant dinner for us with all the couples from our playgroup, with our combined thirteen children being babysat at their house by three reliable teenagers. So I have painted a sufficient picture of their unutterable coolness as friends?
Anyway, it was like we'd never been gone today. The kids were romping together as soon as the sun came up, and then we all lounged around the table eating a giant breakfast made by Brian, and talking until way past the time we'd agreed to leave. And then, competing to out-thank one another for a time of blessing that was all too short.
After we left their house this morning, we drove through our former small town, noting what had changed (not a whole lot) and what remained the same. I'm not sure what's the most unnerving -- that which changes when we move on, or that which stays the same, apparently heedless of your absence. We passed the toy store where I used to take Ian to play with all the Thomas trains on long, rainy days, the Publix where we did most of our grocery shopping (and always saw someone we knew), the post office where the clerk made me promise to come back and visit (yes, we lived in a small town).
We drove into our old neighborhood, almost thankful for the chilly rain that seemed to dim its considerable charms. The kids' memories came flooding back as we passed the playground, the duck pond, the pool, the clubhouse where I taught music group for three years. We passed our babysitter's house and saw a car parked in the driveway that could very well be hers, now that she's probably started college.
And then there it was -- our house. The house where we brought our four-month-old baby boy, and where I later gave birth to my daughters in the garden tub upstairs. The maples we had planted were wearing their fall splendor in the front yard, the hydrangeas shriveled in advance of winter's frost. We could glimpse the backyard, bereft of the playscape but still adorned with the tree we planted over Eliza's placenta. There were the blueberry bushes, stark and fruitless in the cold drizzle, but reminiscent of the gallons, purple and abundant, that we harvested our last summer there. In the woods behind the house, the trees all glowed red and orange in the rain, and I knew exactly what that glorious view from the wall of kitchen windows would be right now.
There was a car parked in the driveway, but we didn't have the gumption to go ring the bell. Next door we could see the same cars, marking the presence of our former neighbors and bringing to mind the time the wife, Gwenn, called me on my cell phone while we were in Charleston for a long weekend. "Did y'all mean to leave your back door wide open? ... Ah, I didn't think so. Bill's on his way over to shut it right now."
I left a note for one neighbor, knowing they'd be filling a pew at First Baptist at that moment, and we drove past a couple other houses where, if we only had a couple hours to stop, I could easily have gone and knocked on their doors. It felt terrible to just drive on by, but I knew a five-minute "hello" would never do.
As we made our way back to the highway, I felt so torn, with our past thrust so poignantly into our faces and hearts. The struggle to reconcile a kind of longing with the knowledge that in so many ways, we have moved on, left me at a loss for words. Eventually, Tim remarked quite perceptively, "In a way, I really miss it, but I don't regret the choice we made."
Regret, no, since there's a peace that comes from following the Lamb whereever He may go. Yet the heart, its trailing root hairs exposed now and then, never is a tidy little package, is it?
Thursday, November 27, 2008
On vacation
I have not been writing this week, because there's too much mischief being made here with my siblings and their significant others here at my parents' house. O the goings-on. Right now it is almost midnight and I am missing a fierce game of Speed Scrabble downstairs, but I already played about ten rounds and I need to get up during the night to help my dad, so with heaps of self-discipline, I am turning in. Details to follow about our trip, and some cute pictures from Thanksgiving, but I am honor-bound to clear my siblings' names in this public forum and let it be known that they have cheerfully played Apples to Apples with me three times now.
Other entertaining activities done late at night: removing and polishing the brass cabinet door handles to surprise my mom. Somehow, chores that seem onerous in one's own home miraculously become recreational when in the company of people who can make you laugh like nothing and no one on this earth. Now I just need to think of a way to get them all over to my house with a can of Bon Ami and some old toothbrushes. Oh, and one brother was making a huge batch of chocolate chip cookies at the time, so we could arrange for that too.
I love my family.
Other entertaining activities done late at night: removing and polishing the brass cabinet door handles to surprise my mom. Somehow, chores that seem onerous in one's own home miraculously become recreational when in the company of people who can make you laugh like nothing and no one on this earth. Now I just need to think of a way to get them all over to my house with a can of Bon Ami and some old toothbrushes. Oh, and one brother was making a huge batch of chocolate chip cookies at the time, so we could arrange for that too.
I love my family.
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