An Open Letter to the Father of my Children

Hey there, pardner.

I apologize in advance as I am feeling kinda' sentimental today. Also, I didn't get you anything for Father's Day so I want to make it up to you...


Your Birthday 2011

So, a few years ago you became a dad. Let's make that capital DAD, and it has been more than a few years. Four, to be exact. And you came into it with twins so therefore it was with guns blazing. From Day 1 you have done 50% and sometimes more. 2 years ago you became a Stay At Home and there has yet to be a moment that I have had doubt.

You do it differently than I, this parenting thing. You do not yell as much but you also do not cook as much. You take them to the park for three hours while my limit is 60 minutes. You teach them about tools and wood and outside stuff. You eschew routine but get them to school on time when I cannot. You hold them gently when they need and they turn to you at least 50% of the time if not more.

You have always been my equal in parenting but no one else can be their Dad. You were meant for them and they for you. You teach them daily what it is to be male, to be a good man and they learn by your very example. They learn to be kind and quiet, withholding judgement and anger. They learn to lead by example and be strong in a different way than they might learn from another man. And I know these lessons will serve them well as they walk into life, they will become men that hold deep respect for their lives, their wives and their world. And you teach them that.


Boys June 2008


All my boys 2008


I had no idea what kind of father you would be, you the young guy that would never hold the babies I thrust at you to help you 'practice'. You told me once you did not feel comfortable because they were not yours. And yet, the day they handed you a 4 pound child you just did it, myconium dipe and all. And have never stopped. You can kiss any booboo, wipe any butt explosion and do bedtime and storytime better than the rest. And now I can watch you hold your nieces, look these new babies in the eye and show all that you have become in the last 4 years in those moments.

You are better than me, you are more than I could ever ask for, you are beautiful in your ways, in your unique and perfect ways. The only thing I would wish for you is this; remember you are important. You are their Father but also more than just that. You deserve time for Yourself, time on your bike flowing with your trails, time in your shop making your beauty, time to be You. Tim, not just dad. You have the job down, boy, and you will never ever be laid off, I promise. Remember your promise to me, 21 days on your bike. Remember that you are loved no matter what.

And last but certainly not least, remember that I know these things every day not just today.


Boys June 2011


All my boys 2011

I love you, MCD. You hold more than just my heart now. You hold theirs.

Dreaming + Garden = Mondo

Five years ago Tim and I took a trip North. We were visiting family in the Pacific Northwest and tacked on a week to head to Canada. We spent some of our Canadian time on a little piece of land called Salt Springs Island. I actually posted about it here when this blog was first started.

That island changed me. Quite literally in many ways. I remember we carefully motored off the ferry onto small winding roads and I was struck by that feeling I once had as a little girl ... as if I had found a place of magic and fey folk. The island itself is close and intimate, peppered with small farms and sheep and artists. We had to hike to our campsite, right there on the water. I got pregnant with the boys on that island. I still get goosebumps when I recall the days there.

We found a winery; small, local, like everything there. It was a warm day and remember I was so silly, afraid to sip the wine tastings 'just in case'. I tried their white and bought a bottle and we watched our then puppy Mishka plunge into a small pond with the 'winery local' dogs, paddling around and splashing. I loved that day, that feeling.

The first thing that I noticed when we pulled up to the winery was the land. It rolled a bit up to the home, down to the tasting room. The owners were clever gardeners, terracing with raised beds, junk repurposed into garden art, flowers mixed with food. It was like a page out of Sunset magazine and we got to spend the day in it. There is nothing that gets closer to my heart than real life Sunset mag scenes.



I think that day enbedded itself into me, my psyche and dreams. It certainly embedded itself into my garden aesthetic. Since that day we have had twins, raised them, revisited another island, and finally finally realized some of the gardening dream that buried itself into my heart that day.





I will never be a farmer, far from a proficient gardener even now. But over the last 4 years I have learned so much about what I love. I was never really a 'growing' girl, impatient with what I thought the earth would just let go of freely. I have tempered that impatience now, learned to observe, learned to only plant what we like to eat, learned to play and plan all at the same time.



The backyard this year looks like that place, that sweet spot on the sweetest spot I have yet been in all my travels. It has the beds and the mixed purpose planting. It has flowers and fruit and food and us. A place for us to sit and talk or play or eat. It is far from done, I have come to realize no garden is ever really done, just fluxing in and out of states. But it is as close to the 'perfect' as I want it to be.



If we do leave here I will mourn just a bit. But also know that if that scene from 5 years ago ran so deep that we created here, well, then we can create it anywhere. And if we do go North, we will be that much closer to Salt Springs.

I realized this dream and wrote this post a few days back (before the blogger black out). I also came to the realization that sometimes dreams need a little refresher and signed up for a second round of Mondo Beyondo, this time with a few good friends that I cannot wait to work with as they do their first course. I am very excite about this.


And just as the garden space became something onto itself, I think it may be high time to seek out a new space on the internets and so I hope to move house this weekend to Squarespace where things just look a little prettier. I hope that you, my reading friends, do follow and I will make sure to update here if it does actually happen.

Here is to Dreaming in Action, right?

They turned 4. They turned four and they care so much about good guys and bad guys. They want to defend and rebuild and shoot something. They want to make things and do things and ignore requests and sometimes dance, and sometimes fight and almost never eat.


Mason laughs like me. He also yells like me, with these immediate sharp excalmations of purpose that make everyone jump and run to see if everything is okay. His laugh, his giggle, it is like a silly sunshine that makes your stomach hurt it is so cute. He cannot pronounce 'L' so it comes out like a "y". He wants to be every superhero there is which includes spiderman, batman, green goblin (he is easy on the superhero definition). Also light saber man, trashman and stripeman (his favorite pair of pajamas).

Owen is a force. Of will, of good, of purpose. He can literally disassemble a picnic bence without direction. He can shift a mood from good, to insane, back to good. Because he wants pizza. He understands that people can be good and bad at the same time and he already understands that about me. He cannot stand watching someone be hurt. He also has no compunction about doing the hurting when he is pissed. Which is a lot like me.

They did it. They went and became people despite the fact that we were not sure that we could make people. Well, ones that we like, anyway.

They are lovely and funny and like to pretend that they can save anyone and like to wear three shirts at the same time (especially if those three shirts layer int his order :: batman shirt, spiderman shirt, dinosaur shirt). Mace likes bok choy and told me it makes him strong enough to carry the laundry basket. Owen hates bok choy (or anything green or meat) but will eat the hell out of a peanut(almond)(sunflower) butter and boysenberry sandwich three times a day.


Something somewhere decided that Tim and I should be given two souls at the same time. Two souls encapsulated in the small oddly shaped little people that arrived 4 years ago. Two boys that chose to come with each other because that is what they and we needed. I remember my first reaction was not exactly joy. I think I was kinda' pissed. Something along the lines of 'shit, did not sign up for this'.

They grew on me.

In every way possible.

They have made me. Not better, not mama, not parent. Just made me. Because all that I was before is still here. But all that I am because of them is so much more.

I love you boys, so very very much.

The party was fun and consisted of kids, sugar filled eggs and Legos (and a sweet bebe to squeeze and pass and a Costco sheet cake because of a failed cake experiment at 10 p.m. the night before that included whipping egg whites until stiff and the resulting 3/4 inch tall cake).


I love the way it seems like they are looking at each other in these photos even though the photos are a bit crappy ...



Until next year ... signing off the birthday posts now (with a little sentimental swipe at the eyes).

A Precursor

They had their birthday party today. They requested waffles and pajamas. So that is what we did. Well, some of us did it. My boys? The ones that have worn their super pajamas for the last three months regardless of time of day or temperature? Today they chose to wear real people clothing (they didn't even layer the pajamas under their real clothes which is bizarre).


I think I am now sold on a 10 a.m. waffle party because they cake was cut and everyone went home after hours of play and it was barely 2 p.m. And we had time to do our run and get some beer and then we sat down with the boys to assemble the latest in their Lego (life) acquisitions. (Everyone needs beer after a morning of 10 or so littles doing what 10 or so littles do).




Ask me tomorrow on their real birthday how I feel about having four year old boys. Right now I feel awfully melancholy and gut-punched as I listen to my little people figure through their new Lego stuff.

Happy birthday (in approximately 24 hours) little guys. Love you so much,

mama

[Home][Work]

Things have been really busy around here for the last few months. The beginning of the year generated the idea that we might like to leave this place someday and that brought the realization that leaving here would likely mean selling this home. Which then lit a proverbial fire under our asses to get to work on all the half-finished, undone projects. I say proverbial fire under ass because things have been coming along but at a bit of a snail's pace. Home DIY moves at a diffrent rate once two little people and their daily needs are factored in.

The interior walls desperately needed painting to cover the years of marks and bangs and scratches, the doors needed painting and new door trim, the baseboards had to come out to accomodate the new wider trim, the walls needed patching and sanding ... etc etc. Every home project seems to spawn another portal to more projects which spin about and cause lots of interesting piles of stuff that small children probably should not be touching but they do anyway.

Side note :: Tim has always exposed the boys to his work because his shop is here at home. They are pretty confortable with the whole 'we make things' but yesterday took the cake. Owen took Tim's full size drill and disassembled his small IKEA picnic table. He told me it was because the table was 'rude' (I think he meant dirty). Man, that kid. It now needs to be sanded and reassembled. Think we should let him try the orbital sander? I jest.

So, as of today, the walls/trim/base/wine cabinet/boy's new storage and two walls in our bedroom are finished. It took awhile.




The thing is, we lived with the undone for years; a hole in the drywall here or a gap where trim should have hidden door frame there. It became the norm. And now that it is done, all those parts of the sum ... well, I can barely see it. Which I think is the point. One sees the flaws easier than the completion. I know what we have done, the sweat equity put in. But when friends gather on Saturday for the boys' bday I am pretty sure they will glance about and maybe comment but not keel over from the changes. They do not come here for the way our Home appears. They come because of the food. Oh, and because they love us.



Don't get me wrong ... I love that we have done what we can up to this point. I love my vibrant red wall, the crisp clean white trim, the walls free of toddler scribble and funk. It feels fresh and Spring-like.

There is so much more to do, most of which falls on Tim's very capable shoulders. There are trestle legs for the solid wood table top, mantle and benches, front door refurbishing. And that does not even touch on the exterior. But it is only April, 4 months out of our newest resolution and I think we are making change. It may be at a slower pace than pre-children. It may not result in leaving this house because I fall more in love with it as we fix it up bit by bit. Whatever it is, it sure feels good.



I promise a backyard garden shoot at some point this Spring. The backyard is where it is AT right now. man, I love growing things. Now, off to finish cleaning paint drips off wood floors prior to Saturday's party.

How Does your Garden Grow?

To answer :: sometimes I am not really sure. But it does.


It will be our second real season with raised beds and I still feel a little thrill when I see them in the backyard. What it is about the growing of things that I find so very very satisfying? There is something about watching little bits of seed that have been placed by your hand come through, fight up through the soil and then make something beautiful and edible and sustainable.


Each season has bought new lessons, ones of bugs and holes in leaves and the results of refusing to thin out the bunches of seedlings. Slowly new knowledge accumulates and I have started to realize how long it actually takes to grow a carrot or a sweet delicious leek. Food goes from piles of inanimate produce in great heaps at the grocery to a precious pinkening strawberry that is anticipated like a Friday night beer.



Gardening is not rocket science but there is a science to it, and an art. There is a vigilance required and I am learning about all of these things in the process of growing things in my backyard.

Last year we had a fairly dismal strawberry crop, harvesting one or two here or there until the season for strawberries was gone and I thought it a total waste of the front bed space. I wanted to rip them out but was too lazy to take it on. But then the strawberries started to run and replant themselves in their instinctive plant ways and they weathered the chill and came round this year.

I read up on how to manage the plants and found out that the second season is always better than the first and that they need some mulch and elevation from the soil and then the pretty little bunches started to have flowers and flowers and flowers and now we are waiting on whole bunches of strawberries. Not enough to anticipate making home jam from really close to home but enough to make it worth the keeping.

Gardening is not easy but it teaches patience, it is a laboratory for my children who now know to smash the chubby grey cutworms and leave the silky red worms be. It is a place to teach us that food is not easy to come by, it is not to be taken for granted and it is to be eaten. It is also a joy because even though I did not make that little seed sprout, that maybe had it been scattered in any place at anytime, it may have come to fruition with intervention unneeded. But it did come up in my yard, under my hand. It's better than Church.

The chard, the peas, the bok chok and celery (which I whooped with joy to see because apparently it is tough to start celery from seed).


Eating young fava bean leaves because you can, watching the boys record strawberry size growth in the notebook with their Uncle, anticipating and then receiving. It is a good thing.

But it makes one realize the preciousness of food. That if it were gone tomorrow, the Trader Joe's and Sprouts and Costco, would we know what to do? Hell no. But never say you can't learn.

Next up> Sweet potatoes and garlic scapes.

Write It Out

It is always wonderful and a bit strange to arrive at a new point with the boys, a place I had hoped we would be someday. That happened this weekend with the start of what I hope will become a weekly tradition and practice, that of Journaling.


I recall reading a post over a year ago, cannot remember where. It was about the joy of journaling with small children. At the time the boys were so young, able to scribble and scrabble and have fun with pen and ink, but also very into using lots and lots of pages. We have always tried to incorporate drawing/writing/coloring etc, but never in a truly focused way.

Then I read a post over at Chookooloonks about starting a journal for the new year. A real written journal with pages and stuff. That needs a hand and pen and stuff. And it sounded good. (The link came from my new muse, Erica, who is rocking my 365 world and making it a pleasure to play on Flickr more)(She blogs here with her cool sister-who-is-also a-mama-of-beautiful-twin-girls Jill).

I headed out to Target with gift cards in hand (I've been very good at work apparently) and perused the notebook section until I spotted one that called to me. Something about faux leather and graph paper that I cannot resist.


Anyway, I thought I would pick up two extra for the boys to attempt a weekly journal practice with them. They are really into storytelling and letters and writing, their new school setting is so wonderful about prompting this without forcing and we are watching them reap the benefits.


We sat down Sunday at the table with the notebooks turned to the first page and the date marked on the top.

Their journals are really just spiral bound pages that lay flat and are made from banana which is pretty cool. I thought I would prep the area a bit and had some magazine pages featuring winter in Nova Scotia (brrr) and pencils, pens and a few Sharpies (man, those kids love Sharpies).

And I let them go to town.

It was an interesting experience.



I was pleasantly surprised that they understood and agreed to use just one page and it was fascinating to watch their 'process'. First it was oral with scribbles, then they got into the pictures, cutting and pasting and telling me all about what was happening. I journaled with them in my little book and we finished with a few notes by me on their pages and their names traced.

I loved that they also gave me the books without any freak outs and helped me put them away until next week with the instructions that I take care of their journal. We sat at the table for about 30 minutes altogether and ended up finding a new place/space to share with each other. This is one of the things that I love about their growing. Always finding new places and spaces together.


If you have little people I would encourage you to do this with them. Seeing how proud they were of their creations and knowing I will look back over them someday down the line have made me commit to following through. If you do play along, let me know.

2011 is shaping up to be a year of projects and doing and making and I am getting more and more excited about it. So, come join in the with us. Even if you do not have littles you can journal, just read that link to get excited and inspired. Happy hand writing, friends

House Opened

We held our annual Open House early this year. My plan was to avoid the nuttiness of house prep plus Christmas countdown by scheduling it early. Last year I was in the midst of cleaning when folks starting showing up but it was still fun. This year I knew I wanted to try to find some time to actually spend with my lovely friends and family. Well, that did happen. A little bit.

Sure, 2/3rds of it I was doing something, whether it was rolling lumpias or searching in vain for that beer I just put down right there, but all in all it was a wonderful Open House.

I have insisted on the tradition since we bought this house, this childhood home of mine. We do not practice a religious holiday any more but I realized the why of the Open House just this year. While I was growing up, my family participated in the Catholic church quite a bit. I was raised with the tradition of Advent which in our Church consisted of 4 families choosing each other and spending the four Sundays before the holiday of Christmas gathering at each residence. We would come together after mass, Advent booklet in hand, read through the book and discuss the miraculous event to come... and then eat. And eat. And eat.


I've known this girl since she was born. She still hates the camera
There was always some type of magic in it for me. Wondering which families would group with us. Then wondering what food they would have on their turn. Exploring some other families space (I was nosy even then). It was exciting and a fitting way to slowly prepare for what then was a holiday much more about the birth of a baby then the stuff under the tree.


Havana, my sister in law and her mama

Although we do not practice the religious aspect now, I still find myself clinging to the desire to slowly invite the celebration that is Christmas into our lives. And I realize I crave that gathering of families. It is why I open our doors every year, clean house, make the laborious lumpia (which will blow your socks off, but takes a team effort to create). It fills me up and makes this time seem much more about family than consuming. Well, it still is about consuming, just in a food way, not a stuff way.

I think next year might actually be our last in this house, in this area, in fact.


It made the party seem even sweeter, the idea that next year could see a goodbye to so many of the people that all live so close. It makes it bittersweet and I think come November of next year, I might start canvassing the friends and family and find three others that want to open their home and have us, this community that we are, come together.


Here is to home, hearth and happiness.

Cookie Maker (get it, Em, get it?)

Now that the sick has gone, I am more than ready to focus on the upcoming holiday. Yay for recovery and the realization post-ick than my normal level of daily energy is more than enough to get things done.

The season of cookie making is upon us and so far this year it has gone quite well. Last year we made sugar cookies, but the recipe was off in some way and less than satisfactory to roll, cut and eat. This year we have had two spot on recipes that have been prepped, rolled and baked with help of some worker elves.



I am loving the simplicity of the sugar cookie recipe from MS magazine this year and it comes with some great ideas to alter the basic recipe. We made the vanilla and chocolate version yesterday. With three under the age of 4. And it actually went well. I think it was due to some pre-planning and a lot of designating.



Things I learned ::

- Set up stations, we had a dry measure station and a mixer station that we moved between. I let the kids measure from a big container of flour and it stayed fun that way. Plus they even helped me clean up.



- Do not let them handle the soft butter. Enough said.

- Also do not let them flip the Kitchenaid switch after adding the flour. Big mess.

- My one Must Do :: Let them taste the dough (Samonella be damned).



- Make the dough, chill it and leave the whole roll out thing until the next day. The attention span of the littles is good for only one step at a time.

The recipes for the vanilla dough is here. It is a Martha recipe, but that is the first link I found. Plus, I am trying not to frequent the MS website too often as it just makes me confused and distracted as to the holiday crafting/creating in my life. Waaaay too many options over there.

The other cookies we made were pre-plague cookies, up at the Cabin actually. Gingerbread cookies. They are again a MS favorite and they are really really good. They also make a load of cookies. The recipe calls for 6 cups of flour. That is a lot of cookies, people. But I never halve the recipe because we always end up eating the first few trays that come out of the oven.


(He looks a little gansta' here, right?)

We had a blast cutting letters into the dough and making some free form snowmen, etc. I have found this dough tastes great at any thickness, the thinner you roll it, the crisper the cookie. Thicker leaves them dense and chewy. And delicious all around.



Come Sunday, all the cookies are to be laid out on a table with frosting and sprinkles and candies and such for the littles to decorate. While the adults curse me for the mess their children will become. Sunday we are having are annual Indonesian lumpia holiday fest. Can I get a what what for fried traditional feast food?

Here is to your healthy cookie-fied deep fried beautiful holiday season. And I am looking to bring a bit of the holiday posting here sooner than later. Wish me luck.