“It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a natural urge.” —Phyllis Diller
Month: October 2012
Sophie’s New Backpack
Last year I wrote an essay for The New York Times Motherlode blog titled “The Perfect Backpack.” You can read it here.
After all that, we ended up getting Sophie a new backpack this year. Two reasons: (1) Last year’s backpack was too small for a regular size piece of paper—and her preschool teachers suggested that students have bigger backpacks at this year’s orientation. (2) Sophie’s obsessed with princesses. Disney princesses, specifically.
So I asked Andy’s talented Aunt Susan to make her a new one.
Sophie loves it. I do, too. It has Disney princesses on it but is still homemade. Her name is embroidered on it. It has adjustable straps and a pocket inside. It fits regular size papers perfectly.
Susan sells her work on Etsy here, and she’s very much open to custom work, such as this backpack.
Thanks, Aunt Susan.
“The best thing about doing needlepoint for very small children is that they are so uncritical. The don’t say things like, ‘I see you’ve missed some stitches over here on the leg, was that intentional?’ or ‘Was this creature blinded in a fight?’ They will clasp it in their little arms and love it besottedly, inseparably as the thing becomes more and more rancid.” —Carole Berman and Jennifer Lazarus
Tomatoes
A couple days ago, in preparation for winter, we pulled all the tomato plants out of our (tiny) garden bed. Late this spring I went to pick up lunch at a restaurant for my family and in-laws, who were visiting. It was a Sunday—I didn’t realize the restaurant didn’t open until noon on Sundays. It was 11:45am and I had time to kill. On the way to the restaurant I noticed a man selling plants in a parking lot where the Highland Heights Farmers’ Market usually takes place. I hadn’t bought tomato plants yet—and wanted some—so I turned around.
I so wish I had taken a picture of the man—and his car. It was an old car with a rickety wooden greenhouse attached to its roof. The man had a ton of plants, knew everything about them, pulled seeds out of his pocket when explaining their beginnings to me—we talked for 20 minutes.
I bought six tomato plants.
When I got home, Andy said we didn’t have room for six tomato plants.
I disagreed.
He was right.
Still, we got some beautiful tomatoes.
James and Sophie loved to eat them straight from the garden, warm from the sun, the insides spilling (and staining) their summer shirts. At times I wondered how it was possible James could fit that many tomatoes in his belly, yet he did. And I let him.
Even when it was close to dinnertime.
“It’s difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato.” —Lewis Grizzard
Brothers
I was switching laundry in the basement when I heard yelling—from all the way up in the boys’ bedroom. The boys yell a lot and I’m pretty good at noting the difference between a he-took-my-toy yell and a I’m-hurting-for-real yell. James’s yell became louder and louder so I abandoned the laundry and ran up the (many) stairs and saw this:
Owen wouldn’t let James out.
Now, I felt bad for James, I did, but just look at their faces! I laugh every time I see this picture.
“Siblings that say they never fight are most definitely hiding something.” —Lemony Snicket
My Monday (So Far)
Picked up Sophie from preschool, dropped her off at play date.
Came home with both boys and found a half-eaten plastic sandwich bag in living room.
Realized bag had been filled halfway with raisins.
Made lunch.
Vaguely remembered something about dogs + raisins + toxicity.
Marveled how the brain pulls out bits of long-ago information when most needed.
Googled.
Questioned legitimacy of search results.
Got Owen more cheese.
Visited Snopes: “Raisins and grapes can be harmful to dogs.” TRUE
Called Ft. Thomas Animal Hospital.
Talked to tech.
Called Andy.
Left half-eaten lunch on table.
Loaded both boys and Tucker into van.
Drove to Animal Hospital.
Took both boys out of van, stood them in front of a stone wall, made them touch stone wall and insisted they do not move.
Went back to van to get Tucker.
Ran behind Tucker across the (thankfully small) parking lot while both boys followed, waving their arms and screaming with glee.
Got inside Animal Hospital without dog or child running into street.
Witnessed boys go crazy over a small dog and four cats.
Watched small dog immediately seek shelter from screaming boys.
Realized Tucker just peed all over the floor and a wooden bench.
Waited for receptionist to get off phone so I could ask for paper towels while reminding boys over and over and over again the location of the pee while they ran around screaming “CAT! MEOW MEOW MEOW! CAT! MOMMY, CAT!” as if they’ve never seen a cat in their life (we own a cat).
Talked to receptionist, found roll of paper towels.
Ran into Andy while trying to keep Tucker out of the pee puddle. Thankful.
Let Andy handle Tucker while I cleaned up pee.
Reminded boys that cats have small ears and loud noises can scare them.
Wondered if boys’ ears were working.
Talked to tech, who claimed more than six raisins for a dog Tucker’s size could be toxic.
Learned that they needed to induce vomiting.
Asked for reassurance about outcome, which was given.
Filled out form.
Wondered about cost.
Vowed never to keep raisins in the diaper bag again.
Drove home sans Tucker (who is being kept for monitoring).
Put boys down for a nap.
Wrote this while listening to boys scream and jump up and down in their cribs.
Thought about 8pm.
And a glass of wine.
“A well-trained dog will make no attempt to share your lunch. He will just make you feel so guilty that you cannot enjoy it.” —Helen Thomson
My New Backseat Driver
Me: “Uh oh.”
Sophie: “What?”
Me: “I’m going the wrong way.”
Sophie: “What do you mean you’re going the wrong way?”
Me: “I’m lost.”
Sophie: “You’re lost?”
Me: “Yes.”
Sophie: “Why didn’t you go back the way we came?”
Me: “I missed my turn.”
Sophie: “What does ‘turn’ mean?”
Me: “You know. Right or left. I went straight when I should have turned.”
Sophie: “So why didn’t you just turn around and go back?”
Me: “Because now I’m downtown and dealing with one-way streets.”
Sophie: “Are we still lost?”
Me: “Yes.”
Sophie: “Boys, Mommy is lost.”
Me: “It’s OK, Sophie. You don’t need to tell them that.”
Sophie: “This does not look like our house [referring to a skyscraper].”
Me: “No. I’m still trying to find the road back to our house.”
Sophie: “She [referring to my Garmin, which I’ve since turned on] said to turn left, Mommy. You should have turned there.”
Me: “DANG IT!”
Sophie: “Are we still lost?”
Me: “Yes.”
Sophie: “How will we get home?”
Me: “We’ll figure it out.”
Sophie: “This is taking a long time.”
[blessed silence for a few minutes]
Sophie: “This doesn’t look like our house, either.”
Me: “I know where I am now. We’re on 471.”
Sophie: “What’s 471?”
Me: “The way home.”
Sophie: “Are you sure?”
“Back seat drivers don’t know the feel of the wheel
but they sho’ know how to make a fuss.” —Bob Dylan
Sophie’s 1st Day of Preschool (2nd Year)
“Holidays are enticing only for the first week or so. After that, it is no longer such a novelty to rise late and have little to do.” —Margaret Laurence
A Pillowcase With Nini
(photos and captions courtesy of my mom)
Sophie cut most of the fabric …
worked hard on the pinning …
sang while she did her own ironing …
pushed the foot pedal for all the sewing (and made French seams) …
and made a beautiful pillowcase.
I think Nini found a sewing partner.
“It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge.” —Albert Einstein
Labor Day Weekend in NC
beautiful Katy; beautiful Colleen
Luke
Katy reading to Colleen and James
the beautiful/terrifying spider waiting for dinner on their front porch
climbing Jack’s beanstalk at Children’s Museum of Winston-Salem
catching flying scarves
initial pictures
making donuts
Colleen climbing
a trip to the grocery
tower building
happy Pop Pop
Katy and Tom, storytelling
“But in the east the sky was pale and through the gray woods came lanterns with wagons and horses, bringing Grandpa and Grandma and aunts and uncles and cousins.” —Laura Ingalls Wilder
Sunday Morning Puzzle
“There are no extra pieces in the universe. Everyone is here because he or she has a place to fill, and every piece must fit itself into the big jigsaw puzzle.” —Deepak Chopra