Version 2.58 :: and Notes of Thanks

So, these have been few and far between. I thought it might happen this way. The time slips and slides, weeks and weeks and months and months, and now you are both checking in 2.58 years of age and almost 30 pounds.

Why is it so important, do you think? The tracking of this time. Why try to be so vigilant about the changes, the advance and, yes, the regression? All children do these things, they learn to talk and walk and move and create and destroy. Why do it?

For me, it is for memory. To coax a poor memory system, a faulty hub in my own head, that loves to skew and embellish and elaborate on every memory until it is almost unrecognizable. That very same memory system loves to abolish thoughts and ideas too. And that is why I do it, to create a powerful though still biased memory of you two.

Also to leave a paper trail that I am a good Mama, that I mess it up frequently, but that I essentially find this to be the best. Just the best. And this is true of the two of you too.

So far, things I have to be thankful for this year…

Verbalization :: Words and conversations and spontaneous thought and recollections, ideas and opinions, stories and snippets of songs, reports on your day all couched in the terms of “me” not “I” as this word seem to be absent from your every growing vocabulary. My favorite :: “Me so happy”.

Creation :: Watching the crafts come home, eyeballs placed carefully, placed willy-nilly, paints and glitter and construction paper, the smell of glue and the shreds of paper and scraps from scissor, real Christmas crafts shaping up. The joy and possibility of a clean sheet of paper.

Reading :: To you, from you, book choices, library exploration. I feel almost high when your giddy laughter explodes when Sam finally get him to admit Say! He does like them, those green eggs and ham. It is a delight and I hope that you continue to love reading and I continue to remember this is one of the methods of calming the raging beast that can be 2.58.

Independence :: Am I glad for this? I think, yes. The double edge sword of independence has always been something to be thankful for. You can find your underwear and put it on most days…underwear. That is a trip, that you wear underwear. You can choose a route, a plan and path and follow it; train or car play, park or store with Mama. You can choose, and my, do you make that clear.

I love it, the freedom of my hands when we are engaged in activities. I am thankful for the time to use those hands for dinner or sewing or creating. But there are times when those hands feel empty. That is when I grab you and hold you tight, find a soft part to squeeze gently, a cheek to kiss, a show of affection that brings you close, brings you back.

And there are some things that certainly do not fit into the Thankful category.
-The night wakings and need for some extra love and help almost every night from one of you.
-The meltdowns, the insanely loud and extremely aggravating meltdowns that make me want to find a hole and hide in it.
-The challenges to our requests, that immediate slight shake of head, turn away of attention, willful ignorance.
-The dreaded H1N1 that struck us all down, gave us fevers and night sweats and a terrible croupy cough. And reminded me just how fragile your growing and sturdy bodies can feel when they are not well. And just how little control we have over things when it really comes down to it.

Despite the not so thankful things, and the days that feel desperately hard as we wade through the thickets that can be two at two(.58) I have to weight in heavily on the side of thankfulness.

So, thank you, boys. For the challenges and rewards, the losses and the gains, the ways you bring Thankfulness into my life, ways I never knew before, never imagined.

Sewing :: Special PJs

Last year at this time of the month I was frantically working away at my Christmas knitting gift list. I decided around August 08 that I would bring a host of hand knitted gifts to the present circle and my plan went okay. Very sore hands, very happy recipients.

This year, different story. Now that work and school for the boys is taking up a good amount of time, knitting has taken a bit of a back seat. And I decided early on to go very easy of myself in the Making category. As in, no plans, no worries. Gift giving has always been a very casual thing in our family so I know there will be no ruffled feathers.

The thing is, without putting pressure on myself to create, the desire to make has sprung forward again and again. This week I fished out Christmas flannel stored away from last year and felt a jolt of inspiration. The boys have a Christmas program scheduled for school and I read that they will be doing it in pajamas (how cute is that?). So, Christmas pajamas it is.


My plan has been kept pretty simple too. I decided to use the Heather Ross Kai shirt pattern for the top, just extending the arm length to make a long sleeve shirt.

And the pants will be the classic, fold and sew and go pattern I have used for the boys since these early incarnations.

It is not often that I sew the same pattern, but I find that each time I repeat a piece, the sewing gets easier and easier. My initially sewing of these shirts took awhile, at least a few weekends. This shirt was cut one night, sewn the next morning. It helps that all the steps fell into place logically and I remembered all the mistakes I had made on my first pass (like sewing the collar wrong three times. 3 Times!). So, shirt one is in, button less but that is okay. Owen has insisted that he pick out his buttons and I am going to let him. That is one shopping trip that I think I am going to really enjoy.


Mason will have the present pattern flannel (*scary note :: they looked at the print and called them presents. And so Christmas time begins). His is cut and waiting for the actual sewing. And if the flannel yardage accommodates, I might eek out a few pairs of pajama bottoms for Tim and I. I am actually contemplating having our Christmas picture feature a pajama clad family. Bed head would be excusable then, right?

And then there is a pile of these, plans for some sweet little girl things.

And the box bag pattern is rearing its (ugly) head. For some reason my sewing of these fairly simple bags was not smooth, it has been a long time and I must have had bad sewing mojo on that day.

I did these production style and that does not really gel with me, felt a little bit too sweat shop and a little less pleasurable crafting, you know?

The lack of any discernible list (or recipient, for that matter) seems to be firing up my desire to knit too. The booklet from Ysolda came in the mail and is full of sweet and quick little knits for all ages and then there are these gorgeous mitts knit by Jess at Fig and Plum, Rav pattern here. So, we will see.

We are headed over to my brother's tomorrow night for an early Thanksgiving dinner, then up to the Cabin for a long and quiet weekend with just the four of us. I am hoping for some down time and craft time and hike time and us time. And maybe some temperatures that dip lower than the high 70s. Enough with the unseasonable warm weather lately. I have some new almost done knits to wear.

And we seem to have bested the dreaded flu around these parts, so I am hoping for a sniffle free trip. Cross your fingers for us. It has been a rough one.

Have a super duper and awesomely Happy Thanksgiving! Gobble Gobble!

The Great Interview Experiment

A few months ago I started reading a blog that was written neither by Mama or crafter, but by a real writer. I usually tend to stick to my kind, you know? But Neil makes me laugh, occasionally snort, and he really has a way with words. He takes the pulse of the Mommyblogging circle so well that I just read him and his tweets rather than plunge into the wider world out there.

This year he brought back an idea he tried last year. The premise is to interview another blogger, the line up determined by where you fall in the comments section and the questions all of your own making. I decided to give it a try and my blogger to interview happens to be a woman who lives not too far away, once lived East but now lives West and just happens to also be a writer. I found outreach in Blogland can end up leading one quite close to home. Here is my interview with TC, a Mama/writer/cook who blogs here and here.


I started blogging due a vibrant knitting community I found online. That community has changed over the last few years as did my blog when I became a Mama. I continue to write when I can with the content changing as life changes. What inspired you to begin blogging and has it changed for you over time?

To be honest, I can't even remember.

Well, I sort of can. I started blogging in the summer of 2003 at a blog I called Tiny Coconut. (It's still there at tinycoconut; I just don't update there any more because of a bunch of boring and confusing events that wouldn't be worth the time to detail.) Earlier that year, I'd had sort of a nervous breakdown/PTSD episode after one of my husband's ex-girlfriends really ramped up what had previously been a sort of low-level stalking. It had been a ridiculously hard few months for me, and I needed an outlet.

Now, you need to understand that I've been a 'professional' writer for more than 20 years now, if by professional you mean someone who gets paid to write. (I don't actually feel like any kind of true professional most of the time!) I'm mostly a non-fiction/science/medical writer, though I've dabbled in other things. Anyway...the point is that I'm used to writing for an audience. The times in the past when I tried journaling on paper were complete failures; I couldn't find the right 'voice,' I didn't know how much information to include (after all, I knew what had happened to me, right, so why bother giving all the details?), and so in the end the writing always ended up feeling forced, fake, pointless, and grandiose.

So I had all this angst, and this need to talk, but I didn't have anyone to talk TO. Then I started reading other peoples' blogs--I don't remember who turned me on to them, or which was my very first, but I know it was around the same time--and I realized that this was the way to go for me. This was a venue in which I could talk about what hurt me and what made me laugh, and I would have an audience, however small, that I could talk to.

What I write about has transformed a bit over the years--the stalking issues are a lot less prominent much of the time, my kids are growing and changing and thus the way I write about them has grown and changed--but I haven't had the sort of major life shift that you describe. Or, rather, I'd had it a good six years before I started blogging, when I became a mother for the first time. In general, the reason I blog now is still the same as it was when I started--I need to process my life, to get stuff 'on paper,' and I need an audience to keep me motivated to do so.

Reading about your son and his current struggles and challenges really struck a chord in my heart. I worked with children in rehab for many years, but always in the physical arena. I thought it beautiful when you brought into focus that your son is the crux of the issue, not his diagnosis. As you continue to identify ways to better give him assist and opportunities, I would ask you what are your greatest hopes for your son? And what are your greatest fears?

There's pretty much no chance I'm going to get through this without crying. But here goes...

My greatest hopes for my N are the same as they are for his older sister, Em. I hope that they will grow up to have lives that make them happy, that satisfy them, that are authentic and real and meaningful. I hope that they will grow up to make a difference in someone else's life. I hope that they will love and be loved.

Here is what I often say to my husband and friends: I truly and completely believe that N is going to be just fine as an adult. More than just fine. I think he's going to be a kick-ass grownup. I think he's going to be special and unique. I think that who he is now is going to serve him really well once he's on the other side of these years of struggle and growth and learning--but only if he makes it through those years having grown and learned. If he's been beaten down by life and/or his peers, if he's been passed through the school system without anyone figuring out how to reach him, if he doesn't learn to navigate through life on his own, then the adulthood I envision for him will evaporate, and in its place...Not something I want to think about.

But that's not even my greatest fear. My greatest fear is that that kick-ass adulthood will evaporate on account of something I did, or didn't do, or tried to do and failed. That in trying to help him, I will instead somehow hinder him. That I'm not doing the best I possibly can by him. That he deserves better. It's not necessarily rational, but it's definitely my greatest fear.

What are three things that you have done of which you are very, very proud?

Em.
N.
My two books.
(I'd have added marrying my husband, but that doesn't feel like something to be proud of; I didn't do anything other than say 'yes' at the right moment. It's just something that makes me happy.)

What is one thing you have done that you would change if you had the chance?

Is it pathetic that I really can't think of anything? Or, rather, I feel as if the choices I've made have led me where I am, and I don't think I'd have wanted to wind up anywhere else. I'd love to see what would have happened if I'd made other choices along the way--for instance, I lived in Scotland for a year back in the mid '80s, and dated a boy there; I'd love to know what would have happened if I hadn't found living on separate continents too hard to maintain the relationship for a few years until we could be together. Would we have married? Would I be living in Scotland now? But I wouldn't want to redo that part of my life if it means losing the life I have now.

I noticed that you were awfully close to the recent Signal fire, which places you squarely in some part of suburban Southern California (not far from me, actually). I also noticed you have family back East.

What is the biggest difference you notice in the people living on opposite edges of this country? I ask because I grew up here in California but went to school in NYC for five years. I would love to hear the perspective of another bi-coaster.

I'm actually right at one of the borders of the Station fire, and yes, that means I'm in an LA suburb. I've lived in LA and its environs since 1993, but before then, I'd spent the bulk of my years in New York. In fact, I was born and bred in Queens.

The biggest difference between the two cities, to me, is their energy levels. New York gives off a level of frantic, hard-edged, high-voltage energy that it a bit off-putting to me these days. When I'm there, I feel manic; I'm irritable; my speech and movement feels pushed, pressured. I feel hard. And it's claustrophobic. I used to ride the subways without a second thought; now, a subway ride sets my heart pounding, my palms sweating. It's an instant panic attack. For many, many people, that energy literally feeds them--their mood, their creativity. But for me, it's all just too much.

LA, on the other hand, is more open, calmer. Since I'm not in 'the business,' though, it tends to feel like a place without a center, without a specific identity. West Hollywood, Pasadena, Brentwood, Northridge; these places have almost nothing in common. The idea that the temperature on any given day may vary by 10, 20, 30 degrees from one part of LA to another...that just blew me away when I first got here. But it's sort of emblematic: There's no single way to define LA, no one temperature that fits across the board. Which is why it pisses me off when I hear people make generalizations about what LA is like. It's like nothing. It's like everything.

Oh, and the other difference? I, still a New Yorker in many ways, carry a pocketbook, when the rest of you carry a purse. And I wear sneakers, not tennis shoes or running shoes or walking shoes.

If you closed your eyes right now and imagined a place you would like to be, anywhere, anytime, what does that place look like?

It's a house, set far back, no neighbors in sight (though it's not completely isolated). The house has tons and tons and tons of natural light; I don't like dark places. It has window seats, a library, and lots of land with gardens I can play in. It's quiet, and warm. There are hills--I like my landscapes hilly--but there is sand and water nearby.

And now if you open your eyes and look around you, what does that place look like?

It looks like my bedroom, with my husband asleep net to me, the cats curled up by my feet. My bedside lamp is on, even though I don't really need the light. (I told you I don't like dark places.) I need to put away those clothes piled up in the corner, but I love this room; it's airy yet cozy, and it has a huge picture window at one end that offers a gorgeous view of the foothills we live in, at least when we haven't let the amber tree get overgrown and block the view. It's a good room.

Pirate, bounty hunter, or cop? Which would you choose to be and why?

Cop. I need structure and predictability, and rules--laws--provide that. I would make a terrible pirate or bounty hunter, always butting in with, "But are you sure it's OK to do this?" I'd be walking the plank in no time.

Thanks, TC, for indulging me in my questionnaire. It was actually really fun musing on questions to send you way.

And for those intrigued and reading, I think the GIE is still open, if you want to hop in check it out here.

Making Hikes Count

I have my favorites in the blog world, we all do. In the area of photography, there is one woman who takes really beautiful shots of her family and Maine and benches and books. Oh, the book shot. It is stunning. Mainemomma does some amazing things with her camera, and I was delighted to receive an invite to join a FLickr group created to document walking. Simple as that. Walking.


Here at home we call it hiking and it elicits different responses from both boys. Owen gives it an enthusiastic "Oh, Yes!" while Mace glances briefly away from his current activity and says "Me no hike". Can't (t)win 'em all. Oh that was so cheesy.

The group has inspired me to bring the camera along and capture the hikes that we are getting to. And lest you think we are really hiking, know that most of the time we are stumbling, picking up things, avoiding horse poop and coyote scat and complaining about the uphill. But it is a start, right?


Here is my slide show contribution, here is the group at FLickr, and here is Mainemomma's stream and her blog. Please do join in the fun and show us where you hike or walk. I love seeing both the inside and outside parts of your lives so let me know if you do post a slide show.

Just to note :: This group is for slide shows, you can make an excellent slide show via BigHugeLabs and their slide show feature.


Though the weather outside your home might be cold, might be frightful, might be dry and dusty or might be a cityscape, I think it gives us all a jolt to look through the lens and see where we live. And find joy in the simple act of walking (and stopping)(and walking)(and stopping).

Sunday Sewing Post

Hi, blog friends. It feels like it has been some time since I have sat to write a substantive post, but I am happy to say this Sunday has been reserved for doing absolutely nothing. After a few weeks of endless somethings, today has been a do nothing. Better said that it has been a day of ::

- Bacon and Belgian waffle breakfast with family
- Pajamas until noon
- Park play with a bag of old carrots feeding the frisky horses
- Beef stew simmering in the pot by 4 p.m.
- And finally a post about sewing.

I have been wanting to post about the skirt pattern I stumbled upon a few weeks ago. It was at JoAnns, it was 99 cents on sale and it is a godsend. I seriously love this skirt. So much that I have sewed it three times already. Yep, three. I meant it when I said I loved it.

The thing about this skirt is that it looks a bit fancy but can be sewn in an hour. It does right by my curvy butt and my desire to wear everything below my waistline. It has a little flare and a good amount of shape. And it makes me feel good.

Tim once told me when I find something that fits I should just buy three of them, that way I am not so sad when the item I love tears or stains or disappears into the wreck that is our over-stuffed closet. The nice thing about this skirt is that I can have 100 of them if I choose. So far, just three though.

This is the first, a light corduroy print.

On my first attempt I followed the pattern but dropped the waist about 1.5 inches, I muddled through the zipper placement and eventually added the waist trim. The pattern calls for basting the waist, then using a fold over bias trim. I used fold over elastic to finish the waist and left it at that. The bottom edge is a double folded 1/4 inch hem with just enough weight. I love it so, but accidentally left it in my sister's rental car during our SF trip. So, I miss it but I had another.

Sorry for the picture quality, weird light in that one.

The second incarnation was using a heavier wool blend fabric in my stash.

The sewing took almost no time at all, the skirt consists of six pieces (called gores I think) with easy seaming instruction. I used fold over elastic again at the waist. I love the simplicity of the FOE for finishing as no one will ever see the waist line.



There is a great tutorial for FOE by Angry Chicken, I think I have mentioned it before. This one makes me happy because I can wear it with tights and some slouchy boots and feel dressed to the nines (for me).

I put this on when I realized that I should not be walking around SF on a Friday night in worn jeans and a Hurley sweatshirt. It has now become my 'going out'(fit) for now. Only negative is the wool is a little scratchy and catches the tights, but I am not ready for lined skirts yet. One step at a time.

And now number three is currently in progress.

This one is using some unbelievably pink, oddly stretchy fabric donated by Lori Z before she left to rejoin the Canadians. I know it might be a bit much, but it was calling me. I decided to embellish with a sashiko type design at the hem to tone it down (?) which might end up being a questionable decision.

The embroidery is in progress using some heavy thread and a cup to trace the semi-circles. It just might work out. I will be sure to let you know.


Simplicity 2520 has proven to be a pattern worth the 99 cents and I would highly recommend it to even a novice sewer (believe me, I place myself only a slight notch higher than that). I do think it might be better on a curvy girl due to the flare but I could be wrong. The thing I am loving about sewing my own clothes is that I have the final say on the fit. Clothes and I have never had an easy relationship so it excites me to start down the path of tailor. Next up, a pair of pants for me. Any suggestions for a 'boot cut with a generous booty' pattern would be greatly appreciated.

The thing about sewing was that it once intimidated me. I remember feeling the same way about knitting. I have found it is in the process that one learns the craft. I would highly encourage anyone reading that wants to sew to try it. I use a simple (and cheap) Brother and dream of the world of Cadillac machines and sergers, but I can do it just fine with what I have. Can you imagine being able to create pants that fit every time?

(Well, almost every time, I am sure there will be some f-ups when it comes to pants...the crotch, I am so intimidated by the whole sewing the crotch thing).

And just to clarify, I did not sew that stuff on this Sunday. But I did write this post up, which took all day, not sure why since we were doing nothing. Hmmmm.

Away and Home

A few scenes from our weekend. It flew by and left me with legs aching and bleary-eyed, winding down the road to the Coast, then inland for a straight arrow drive down the 5 South to make it home to my boys....all three.

It left me with a truly burning desire to dance again, to embrace movement that goes further than yoga. To find a Master teacher here in Los Angeles who can ignite that fire again, the joy that comes from challenge and loud live drums and other women (and some men too) moving in lines across the floor.

But home, well, that comes first. The hugs and laughs and cuddles. Witnessing Superboy and his prat falls. And giving the other one a big hug when he accidentally rammed his lip into the bench. Ouch. (But he was happy initially when he saw me).








Sometimes the best thing about leaving is the coming home.

So many things to get done but all in good time. First, a few posts about the latest skirt making. Best pattern ever. Then, some knitting, some weight loss and a great Interview Experiment. Shaping up to be a full plate. Speaking of full plates...Thanksgiving in 2 weeks? What?

Untying the Knots

The last 6 months have brought such a shift into my world, definitions and roles have changed and opened and grown. I feel like the me that resides in this person, in this body, is stretching out and unknotting parts I did not even realize had tangled.

It started with a return to work, a role I was initially hesitant to embrace. The change seemed so big, to be away from them for such a time, to focus on something totally separate from Motherhood that required skills that felt rusty and unused. I cannot say I have totally embraced the change or done a very good job at all times, but I have realized what it has given me. Returning to work, doing something I was trained to do and making some good money doing it, is empowering and gratifying. And although I feel that I miss things that I was once so used to experiencing when home on a daily basis, I also know I am getting out of a lot of the tedium of days home with children. I no longer have to prepare every breakfast or lunch, so I can embrace making dinner when I get home. I no longer have to be witness to the endless messes and mischief they can create. I miss the brilliant smiles and developing skills, oh, I miss them so at times. But I see Tim and his weary smile when I come home and I know I am escaping the down side too.

The summer brought my first trip away from them, a wonderful special time when I finally had the chance to see my niece on her turf and get to know the little love so much better. I cherished those days with her, my hands free to scoop her up or roll with her on my makeshift floor bed. But it was tough to be away from them and the moment I returned I felt so good to be close to them, the physical distance was almost too much that time.

Then Tim and I (finally) had a successful and peaceful few days away, the boys safe in my parents’ care. Days when we lazed about on the beach and made a great meal we ate sitting down, all those things you take for granted before your children enter into the fabric of your days. It was lovely and we did spend a good amount of time talking about the boys, but we also spent some time talking about or dreams and needs and thoughts…actually fully formed uninterrupted thoughts.

And now this week new opportunities came to us. A spontaneous trip to the Grand Canyon for Tim, four days with a close family member and his camera. A spontaneous trip for me to meet my sisters in San Francisco to be part of a West African dance conference. It feels odd, to be able to tell him go, to hear that I can go. The team that we always seemed to need to be from the beginning has shifted and we feel fine flying solo, for a few days anyway. I would not say it is easy to manage without my other half, but it is far from terrible.


(scenes from Tim's kick ass trip to the slot canyons)

I write this because it feels like each one of these things, these experiences has changed some part of me, revealed a little more of the person that was consumed by the Mother role for the last few years. When I took a class with a master teacher this morning, flying arms and stamping feet of dozens of women all around, I felt something break open and fly for an hour. When I lay in bed and giggled with my sisters this morning, I felt a reconnect with the younger me, the one who fell asleep and woke everyday to Amanda talking and talking and talking. Waking me from a sound sleep with her talking. When I leave the house for work or yoga class unencumbered by small boys that take forever to get in the car, get in their seats, get out of the car, I feel light.

I am not sure I like the feeling. It feels too free sometimes, as if it should not be happening, as if it in violates my role as a Mama. It feels scary, to reclaim the woman that walked confidently down city streets once in a sassy skirt and tall black boots. I wandered SF last night, waiting for my sister to get into town, alone and fairly well dressed. I people watched and had a beer and resisted the urge to pull out my huge camera and take shots of the city at night. It felt good, it felt odd, it felt a little lonely.


(scenes from our kick ass anime themed hotel room)

I am rather inelegantly saying that I like it and I do not, the untying and untangling of the Me that I am now. I know more of what I want, but I think what shocks me is that I am actually getting it. I would have never believed you in the beginning if you would have said I would have a weekend away in a trendy hotel hanging out with my sisters with no kids in sight. I know it is not wrong to do these things, to take actual real Me time, but it still feels like clothes that hang a little bit off kilter. I am sure I will get used to it eventually.


It is in the breaths between Motherhood that I realize how very much I love what I have become. Mama seems first and always, but it is nice to have those breaths.

Have a great weekends, friends. Now I have to go soak my aching legs that were just totally schooled by an insanely good dance class. And get ready for one more.

I know, I know, enough with the existential Mama posts..I do have some creating to show, including my new favorite skirt, glimpsed in the picture above. Easy peasy sewing for a lot of payback.

Happiest of Halloweens

The costumes were finished in the nick of time and donned in the early afternoon and worn to bits until the full-ish moon rose.


The boys gathered the spoils of the day in bags that became too heavy for them to carry. They particularly cleaned up on my brother's quiet street where families were dumping candy by the handful into their outstretched hands.



They ate at least 5 lollipops in record time and had some of the funniest sugar induced freak outs I have ever seen.


They ran and danced and crashed their spider appendages into every object that crossed their path. (Note to self :: Two year olds and spider appendages are not very compatible).


Happy Halloween from two little spiders, their beehive Mama and their beekeeper Daddy (taking all the pictures).


See you next year.