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Becoming a 2-Year-Old

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March 30, 2008

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March 30, 2009

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March 30, 2010

“The years teach much which the days never knew.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Related posts:

  1. Quoting Sophie
  2. My Favorite Sophie Expression
  3. Flowers
This entry was written by kara, posted on March 30, 2010 at 9:42 pm, filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.
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    Maurice Pommier speaks little English, so he replied to my Meet the Author interview request most generously with an illustrated letter. Maurice is the author and illustrator of the children’s book “Dans l'atelier de Pépère,” which Lost Art Press published in English: “Grandpa’s Workshop.” The book is rich in illustration and the story includes a dragon, elves, war and even murder amid a beautiful tale of a young child learning about the history of his family through his grandfather’s tools. My kids love it (I do, too.) You can read the profile here: https://blog.lostartpress.com/2019/10/18/meet-the-author-and-illustrator-maurice-pommier/ It was! With half our troop in middle school this year, and lots of our girls in different activities, we decided to go out big spending the night in the Twiga tents at the zoo this weekend (and buying lots of sleeping bags for a local women’s shelter with all our cookie money that was left). It was such a great experience with incredible staff and surprises at every turn (including a behind-the-scenes peek at our city’s favorite preemie). We’ve been with these sweet girls since they were in kindergarten/first grade, and it’s been a joy to see them grow. All the credit for everything we’ve ever done goes to Jana — I was simply the bringer of snacks. One of my former Girl Scout leaders still calls those of us in her troop “her girls”. I really get that now. Growing up is so bittersweet. BLINK! (I kind of love how the moon one-upped everything, rising above the Roebling all full and orange and beautiful for a few minutes.) Super impressed by all the artistry and technology and messages of inclusiveness and energy in our city tonight. So turns out some (most?) kids in middle school don’t like loud/waving/smiling/breathing parents. An example: Honking the car horn and yelling out the open window “Hi, Sophie!” and then yelling hello to all the other kids around her. This, my friends with kids still in elementary school, is not cool. Apparently. (I still do it.) Anyhow, for tonight’s choir concert I had the perfect solution: I changed out of the black cami I had intended to wear and instead wore a t-shirt under my blazer that says “c’est bon.” No grand displays, I promised her. Instead, I’d simply walk around pointing to my chest. (The look on her face.) “It doesn’t even say c’est fantastique!” I said. “Just bon!” Then I added my most colorful and big and sparkly earrings I own, to reiterate the message. (Plus I love the earrings.) I added my cheetah print Rothy’s (which I still can’t believe I scored on FB marketplace for $30) and I actually thought I looked pretty hip. She was not amused. “Mom, you look crazy,” she said. But then this happened: She spotted me in the crowd and I forgot about my shirt for a sec and I smiled and breathed and waved furiously, and she forgot about middle school for a sec and smiled back. That moment? Tres bon. The name of this Word doc quite adequately describes my current frustration (and I have GOT to remember to rename before sending this in), I’m approximately 3,477 words OVER, I’m wearing — can I call this loungewear? — clothes I wore to bed last night — and the day before — and about 4 hours ago I gave up trying to spell “initiative” correctly because I never spell it correctly the first time and apparently I’ve overused it. A lot. #TheNotSoGlamourousLifeOfAWriter #OnDeadline (in case the “on deadline” wasn’t obv) Surprised the kids with passes that are good through next year. Even when we took the exit they didn’t believe we were going to Kings Island. O+J have been once, but they were babies. I spent many summer days here as a kid, and worked here as a teenager, and haven’t been back for years. Walking around brought back so many memories! So far we have one thrill rider (J). We’ll see how that plays out this summer. Also, the new Hallotween during the day is perfect for kiddos (and scaredy cats like me!).🧟‍♂️ Short North, lunch, Friday Andy and I spent one night in Columbus, sans kids, to celebrate our 15th anniversary. Before we left I was at Ulta and saw false eyelashes applied advertised for $10. I’ve been feeling at war with my body and so I was giddy as a young woman with gorgeous blue hair glued these things on. After I felt sooo glamorous. Like these lashes had taken me from 40-year-old-mom-with-gray-roots-and-15-extra-pounds to movie star. Or maybe morning show host. Whatever. $10 and I had a new face. I got home and James looked at me, slowly tilting his head sideways until he tilted it so far he nearly fell off the couch. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR EYES?!?” he yelled. “I got new lashes!” I said. He looked horrified. Looking at them in the antique mirror in our half bath, I realized they were a bit ... much. But $10 is $10 so I batted my eyes with these babies all day long. After dropping the kids off at my parents’ house, driving past the house I lived in when I was 5, visiting the Wex and checking out how much OSU has changed in 20 years, we checked into a gorgeous (and super reasonable) studio downtown (Airbnb) and then had dinner. The place we chose was highly rated and in this busy season of our lives we only glanced at the menu. We ordered a bottle of Scarpetta Barbera and then our dinner — cappelletti for me, filet for Andy. While drinking our wine we noted everyone around us was ordering the tasting menu. But we were convinced, given the price of each plate, this was not a small plate/tapas place. We were SO WRONG. Apparently we were eating in a restaurant that’s typically $200+ a person and, mind you, Andy’s wearing a Lost Art Press T-shirt, shorts and flip flops. When I saw the size of his serving of mashed potatoes (two bites’ worth) I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes. We ate our (two tiny) plates, drank our (bottle) of wine and asked for the check from our confused waitress who had no idea that’s all we could afford. The food was incredible but we were starving so we hit up a dive Mexican restaurant and shared a huge order of guac and chips. We were back at our place by 10 (I needed to remove my now askew eyelashes) and you know what? It was perfect. Beverly Whiteside, ‘Love Stands Tall’ Ann Hamilton, from ‘Pages,’ 2018-19, yesterday We are a mess in this picture (totally not your fault, Barb ). But I love this mess. 15 years ago we said ‘I do’ next to a big rock (that’s still there) and under a big tree (that’s no longer there) on the grounds of the Cincinnati Observatory. (Thankfully it wasn’t as hot as it has been today.) Later we danced to k.d. lang’s “Simple” under a big tent filled with people we love. I try to remember that song, and that dance, on our messiest days. “I worship this tenacity and the beautiful struggle we're in / Love will not elude us, love is simple / Be sure to know that all in love is ours / That love is a philosophy, is simple” This is James in his 4th-grade classroom, during an evening open house where he taught us about mission statements and goal setting and things so much more about life than the state tests cover. They’ve been growing these plants in this thing since the start of school and they had a harvest party last week. He’s wearing his bocce ball shirt — we had just come from his first game, on courts created on the school’s grounds for the new Unified Club, which both he and Owen are in. I’m sure if anyone pays attention to my posts they know I worry a lot about equality and privilege and if we’re doing the right thing (about, well, everything — I’m basically a mild version of Chidi on The Good Place). But here’s the thing: James is constantly dodging out of pictures and looking stoic when we ask him to smile (he’s 9). And he likes school, but he still grumbles in the morning, forgets his homework, realizes he has 100 pages to read in the novel he chose the night before the reading’s due (he’s 9). But when I asked him if I could take this picture, tonight, he didn’t hesitate. And I swear to god that’s the biggest camera smile I’ve had in months. So I’m super grateful, to a whole host of people who have devoted their careers and volunteer time to public schools, this public school, to make all of this happen. And I know we are so lucky. Book club last night! Bought my cheese from @therhined (and also yesterday’s lunch — a sandwich made of city ham, alp blossom cheese, butter, wildflower honey and crushed lavender sugar marcona almonds on a baguette and it’s pretty much what I want for lunch every day now). Picked the flower stems out @thebuddingfloristcincy, beeswax lantern with dried daisies and a jar of blueberry blossom honey from @beehavenhoney, baguette from @sixteen_bricks, grapes and little pumpkins from Roth’s Produce, wine from @depsfinewine, snickerdoodles from Sophie. I didn’t finish the book (yet!) but I did love making this! Things I should be more grateful for includes the fact that Findlay Market is 10 minutes from our house. desk, age 9 The no-furniture rule lasted about two days.
    TAP

  • Favorite Essays

    Choosing Compassion in a Culture of Fear

    Seeking the Bigness in the Everyday

    The Love in Trying

    The View from Up High

    Season of Innocence

    The Huffington Post guest post: Apologies to the Parents I Judged Four Years Ago, a TIME's top 10 opinion piece in 2012

    Simple

    Changing Love

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