Books for Big Girls and Big-Looking Boys

I never showed you what my kids gave me for my recent birthday.

Somehow my family has managed to pick up on my Betsy-Tacy fixation. Now, each of these volumes contains TWO books from Betsy's high school years and beyond -- including her European tour and her first year of marriage to her soulmate, whose name is ... No. I can't spoil you. There's Heaven to Betsy/Betsy in Spite of Herself, Betsy Was a Junior/Betsy and Joe, and Betsy and the Great World/Betsy's Wedding. You'll just have to read them for yourself, and I dare you not to be utterly charmed by the heroine and her fiercely loyal family, who never questions the idea that Betsy is destined for greatness as a writer and always puts the coffee pot on in times of crisis.

I've had my nose in these books for the past week or so, and haven't been good for a whole lot else except modeling a love of literature to my young students. The end of the final book is approaching though -- oh, bittersweet! -- and then my house can return to its characteristic state of gleaming, orderly perfection.

Now, now. It's not nice to snort your drink out through your nose.

More bookish stuff: Fellow Austenland fans rejoice! The lovely Ms. Hale is penning a sequel! Midnight in Austenland should be out some time next year.

And finally. My oldest child? The boy who rode around in a sling for the first year of his life, slept on my pillow, and otherwise experienced quite peaceable beginnings?  Look what he's been into all weekend.

 I'm sure it was just last Tuesday that I was tucking him into an organic cotton onesie. How did this happen? Please send help. You'll find me sheltered in a locked closet, reading a book. Over and out.

Strawberry Delight

I have a conundrum for you. Let's say that, theoretically and hypothetically, you went to a STRAWBERRY farm to pick lots of STRAWBERRIES. Let's say that about forty five minutes into the picking, after your perspiring mother had told you three times not to throw any more STRAWBERRIES at your siblings or friends, that that same mother decided that everyone had had quite enough ninety two degree sun, thank you, that her poor mama-friend looked kind of miserable sitting amid the rows of STRAWBERRIES and nursing her cranky baby, and that it was time to retreat to the shade, eat lunch, and purchase a nice, cold, refreshing treat.

Let's say that your choices, all homemade on the farm, were as follows: STRAWBERRY lemonade. STRAWBERRY popsicle. STRAWBERRY ice cream. And vanilla ice cream. What would you choose?

Would you care to consult these four nincompoops for guidance?

I'm thinking of taking them all (Ian's friend included) to the nearest neurologist to have their brains scanned for gross abnormalities. Just sayin'.

In other news, we went strawberry picking last week! We had a wonderful time!

Strawberry bushes, it turns out, are a lot like people. Gently push aside the external foliage and you'll find lots of beauty flourishing underneath. 

Over the weekend, I was able to make the Professor a super delicious strawberry shortcake layered birthday cake. I reduced the sugar and made it gluten-free using Pamela's baking mix instead of flour and eliminating the leaveners. If you have any strawberries on hand, please drop everything you're doing right now and go make this cake. It's positively vital to your life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. Thank you.

Caroline and I also made freezer jam following Katie's easy recipe. It was my first foray into jam-making, and all I can say is, if I can do it, YOU CAN TOO. Just channel your homesteading ancestors, roll up those sleeves, and tie on your most charming apron.

(But if it doesn't work out, I can tell you where to get a good dish of homemade vanilla ice cream.)

This Wasn't Supposed to Be About Bacon

So was your Mother's Day the very pink of perfection?

Here we are after gorging ourselves in traditional fashion at a fancy local Mother's Day lunch buffet. We do this every year with the Diller side of the family. 

Clearly, we're not a family who knows how to coordinate our clothing patterns. Lord-a-mercy. 

Aw, look, it's five sweet-looking children. Don't you just want to take them home with you?

Whoopsie. Looks like someone(s) had a little too much bacon. 

I noticed something this year about our behavior at the buffet. The adults seem to feel that they're obliged to sample just about everything. Smoked duck? Bring it. Smoked salmon? Sure. Made-to-order omelets? Don't mind if I do. Three different desserts? Surely we mustn't waste food. Are we trying to get my father-in-law's money's worth? Are we worried about where our next meal is coming from? Are we just gluttons? The jury's out on these profound questions.

The kids, meanwhile? I wasn't kidding earlier about the bacon.

My plate (one of several):

My daughter's plate:

Houston, do we have a problem?

Let us observe the results. Adults, nourished with a wide variety of wholesome, gourmet foods: 

Kids, nourished with bacon: 

Huh. 

Meanwhile, we'll just zoom in for a moment ...

Whaddya know? The Professor reads my blog! (And gets more timely, un-subtle hints from Vanessa, who I believe is now toting similar jewelry of her own. We all need friends like this in our lives.)

So after the buffet and photo session, we headed home and everyone piled onto my bed to listen to me read The Willoughbys(wicked, funny) until my throat was sore. Then we lazed around some more, and even with Caroline interjecting her important needs, thoughts, and desires for popcorn every few minutes, I managed to read When You Reach Me in its entirety, which is this year's Newbery Medal winner and has a delightful twist that made me think all about time travel and feel about as scrambled in the brain as I did during Season 5 of LOST.

And somewhere in all of the rush of the weekend, the very best Mother's Day gift I received was the moment I realized all over again that both because of and in spite of me, my children are having a happy childhood. With bacon. The End. 

For everyone who's a mother or ever had one

My blogger friend Molly helped contribute some of her amazing photography to this video, which was created by author Kelly Corrigan and published on the Today Show website in addition to Youtube. It's short, worth a couple minutes of your time, and exceedingly lovely. Yea Molly!



I'm dedicating this video's presence on my site to mothers everywhere. The ones I know and the ones I don't (but especially you who visit here). The ones who work for a paycheck and the ones who work for hugs (many do both).

For all the meals and snacks you make and all the times you've tried to get those kids to eat a few more veggies or choose the apple over the chips. For all the times you've spent an hour or more producing a meal only to have it disappear in ten minutes or congeal on the plate.

For all the cleaning up you do that no one seems to notice, because it feels like one woman against the volcano. And all the times you decide to just let it go.

For all the noses and hineys you've wiped and all the tears you've kissed away.

For all the craft projects you've tripped over and tiny Lego pieces you've stepped on -- and for all the times you bit your tongue instead of saying what you were *really* thinking.

For all the hours you've spent behind the wheel of the car, and for all of those hours you've listened to in-depth analyses of Star Wars or told stories about Thomas the Tank Engine instead of improving your mind.

For all the times you've asked for JUST THREE MINUTES of privacy in the bathroom.

For all the book you read aloud, and all the sentences you never get to finish because someone has something really urgent to tell you about an entirely unrelated matter that most certainly cannot wait three more seconds.

For all the times you've chosen to laugh instead of yell or cry, and wished someone were there to cheer you on.

For being beautiful the way you are, bad hair days and all.

For the times you think "I cannot do this," and then you do anyway.

For all the pictures you take, and all the scrapbooks that never get made.

For never being perfect, but always learning. For knowing when you need to take a break. For modeling humility by apologizing when you'd rather walk over hot coals. For getting up in the morning and starting over again, believing that a new day is a new beginning.

For marveling at the wonder of who these little people are, and who they are becoming -- even when it's different from what you expected. For believing in the best you see in them.  For modeling grace by learning to receive it yourself.

For love, in all its messes, its inconveniences, its growing pains, its tender mercies you knew nothing of before accepting this grand mission we call motherhood.

Happy Mother's Day to all!

Pitcher Books

And now, a propos of Mother's Day -- yes, we are on a theme this week -- I'd like to present one of my all-time favorite picture books. Buy yourself a copy or hunt it down at your local library, and you and a short person are in for a treat.

You're Just What I Need

This is basically the classic game where the child hides under the covers and the mother can't POSSIBLY guess who or what that oddly shaped lump could be. A bundle of laundry? An old mop? A bunch of carrots? Kids love this book (as I did when I was a child and it went by the name The Bundle Book) because the grown-up involved seems so delightfully dim-witted. Moms love it because it captures in a few words and pictures the tender connection between a mother and child having fun together.

And while we're on the subject of picture books, here's one of Caroline's top picks as of late:

That's Good! That's Bad!

This is a hilarious slash perilous romp through the jungle, where nothing is quite as it seems at first blush. After reading it approximately fifty six times to Caroline, I discovered that she thought it was an ongoing disagreement between the small protagonist and his parents. Personally, I'd call it more of a dialogue between the narrator and the audience (us), but I'm just a delightfully dimwitted grown-up, so what do I know?

As Eliza once confided in me, "Sometimes grown-ups forget things, and they need their children around to remind them."

Ahem. Which picture books are getting extra love in your house these days?

Things You Need to Know About

Make sure your husband/kids/person-who-wants-to-spoil-you-as-you-deserve is reading this over your shoulder, OK?

In service to my dear and faithful readers, I'd like to present the following list of Mother's Day gift ideas. If  you're not a mom (yet, or ever) or your significant other believes, horrifyingly, that Mother's Day is simply a consumeristic invention designed to sell Hallmark cards, maybe, just maybe, you just need to treat yourself or a mother in your life.

But first! Something FREE you need to know about:

Becky Higgins is doing a giveaway every single day in May where professional photographers all over the country donate their services to capture you and your beautiful family on film. Or megabytes. Or whatever the thingamajiggies are in those big honkin' digital cameras of theirs. Check it out, and be sure to check back in every day for a photographer in your area.

Now. Consider the following.
1. A listmaker. List PlanIt is the place to download templates for every possible, imaginable, type of list you could ever dream of making. Paper or digital, your choice. I dare you to try it out and not feel more organized. I gave my sister a membership for her birthday. She's now completely in control of her life and happy beyond her wildest dreams. (Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch. But still.)

2. An apron. A CUTE one that gives you that je-ne-sais-quoi as you sashay around the kitchen as you undoubtedly do. If the gender politics of your husband presenting you with an apron as a gift give you the heebie-jeebies, check out the selection at Anthropologie and you might reconsider. My sister gave me one for my birthday. I'm now completely in control ... Oh, never mind.


3. A personalized necklace. All right, it might be too late for this Mother's Day, but I don't mind admitting that I've shed some slobber over the handmade creations at The Vintage Pearl and Lisa Leonard Designs (from which the photo at left was taken), among others. They'll engrave the names of your kiddos or whomever you love onto sterling silver lockets. Gorgeous!



4. A rosebush or other flowering plant. This is the gift that keeps on giving, year after year. I'm totally in love with the one surviving rosebush in my back yard. And if you don't have a yard, you can grow one in a container on a patio.

5. Dark chocolate. A couple weeks ago, my father-in-law presented me with two bars of dark chocolate for no particular reason than paternal affection and belief, I suppose, that raising his grandchildren requires extra fuel now and then. In my book, that made it Mother's Day already.

6. A book. Stephanie from Keeper of the Home has a brand new book out, available as a digital or hard copy, all about eating Real Food on a Real [read: tight] budget. (Like, for those of us who can't quite manage to sign over our firstborn to Whole Foods.) It's wonderful. Check it out.

Of course, you can never go wrong with a handmade card. Never ever ever.

Happy Mother's Day to all of you!

I Love Texas in the Springtime

Today is my birthday  (Answer: 33). And because I love beautiful things -- which makes me as delicately distinctive as a four-leaf clover -- I thought I'd present, for your consideration, the following vistas.

One of my life goals is to know all these beauties by name. 

And I would love to share more of these deep and erudite thoughts with you, but a short person in my house is finding it super imperative that I help her make a milkshake at this very moment. Somehow, she didn't get the memo about it being Mom's Day Off. However, I'm still taking a break from housework today, beyond the basics. That may make more work for tomorrow, but no worries: I'm a whole year older now, and I have the maturity to handle it.