shining egg

about that last post

it's funny.  i felt funny posting about capture the flag yesterday.  it's funny that i felt funny.

i've rolled this around a bunch over quite a number of months - what sort of blog this is - and i keep coming back to the fact that it's not any sort categorizable blog at all.  (is it?)  at least not as i think about "the categories" - craft blog, mama blog, blog full of lovely links.  

i don't really chronicle my artwork here - i mean, i mention it, but i don't write about it regularly or share everything that i'm painting or working on - though often i wish that i did keep a better record here of what's happening in my own creative process.

and i don't really chronicle my family life here either.  they're private sorts, my husband and our children, and since this isn't their blog, i try to respect their privacy.  as much as possible.  though i did earn some points with my private son when i was able to recover his recipe for sesame noodles supreme by googling it, since he gave me permission to share it here last fall.

once, many months ago now, i stumbled across a blog with a long blog roll on the sidebar - the blogs were categorized: design blogs, craft blogs, mommy blogs, other interesting blogs.  i was in the "other interesting blogs" category.  i remember being taken aback, at the time - i suppose that when you're a mother, it's hard to imagine that you could fall into any category other than the mother category - but that was when i first realized that i don't write so much about my life as a mother in this space.

maybe that's why i felt funny writing about capture the flag.  it's not my usual subject matter (what is my usual subject matter!?), nothing to do with anything really, other than my life as a mother.  our life as a family.  that's why i turned the comments off, i guess.

but why did i feel compelled to write about capture the flag in the first place?  if it has nothing to do with the sorts of things that i generally write about here?  aha.  

i thought i knew.  i thought i was going to type the next sentence and say that i wrote about it here because it was such a glorious night that i wanted to preserve it and share it.  but as i was about to type that sentence i realized that i've known all along exactly why i wrote about capture the flag in this space yesterday.  only i didn't realize that i knew it until this very minute.

whenever i talk to people about why i keep this blog, i talk about finding the beauty in small things.  i talk about finding the beauty and acknowledging the beauty and celebrating the beauty as a way of inviting more beauty into my life.  and, of course, that's exactly why i wrote about capture the flag here yesterday - because it was a beautiful evening.  it was a little idea that turned into a great celebration of friendship and summertime and sweaty children and cold beer and late evenings in the yard with fireflies.  and i wanted to capture that, to celebrate it, to hold it up as a reminder of what can be, to invite more of those extraordinary moments into my life.

been sitting in the sunshine

i forgot to mention that we were going to the beach.  there was all of the business that goes along with the end of school, complete with potting plants for teacher gifts and a kindergarten play and spirit day and the like; and there was a visit from grandparents; and there was a photography job; and there was that first week of summer vacation when everybody feels as though they've been set free and acts accordingly; and then we were off to the beach for a glorious week in the sunshine.

it was a perfect way to jump start summer.  it was a much needed break from the rain.  it was a joy to be with family and watch cousins play together and take showers outside and paint in the sand and sit and watch the waves.  

and now we're back.  we're unpacked except for my backpack which is half-full of sand that i just can't bear to shake out.  i'm making these cookies to pack in lunch boxes for the first day of camp tomorrow.  i have a long long list of things to do in the coming weeks - things that i'm looking forward to sharing - things like painting and printing and goccoing and printing photographs and possibly printing note cards and making prints of paintings and possibly a fiber project.  and a big game of capture the flag.  and a whole bunch of barbeque-ing.  and lots and lots of seashell-sorting.  and there's more, too.

but first i'm going to take a deep breath.  and make a peach cobbler.  because it's summertime.  at last.

saturday morning in the woods

 

week of yellow {day 4}*

it's thursday.  we're four days into erin's week of yellow.  three days into the fever - which appears to be gone as of this morning - good news for the girl who already missed the 100th day of school and (hopefully) now won't have to miss her class field trip to see charlotte's web tomorrow.  

it seemed that i saw yellow everywhere i went today - a stunning local shop where they often arrange their wares by color (and where i really think they ought to sell martha's stunning creations), the market where the grapefruit and lemons and golden delicious apples were calling my name, driving down the street where there seemed to be so many yellow taxis - i felt like yellow was following me and cheering me and lifting me all day.  

these are some of the yellows that have been cheering me all week.  (click on the mosaic for credits.)

also, there are a few bits that i wanted to capture from this day.  moments and feelings that i wanted to catch with a net and lock in a box so that i'd be able to remember them one day when i can't remember them anymore.  and even though they're not yellow, these little bits feel bound up in this week of yellow for me.  and i kind of like that.  so here goes.

* l. got dressed this morning in her pink striped tights, red velvet skirt, and purple striped dress.  beyond adorable.  but she traded the purple striped dress for an orange t-shirt before we left on our errands.  oh well.

* she and i spent the morning taking photographs around the house.  i climbed on the chair to photograph the breakfast table, and when i got down, she climbed up and did the same.  she learned how to use the self-timer, too.  i heard her playing photographer in the living room while i was uploading my photos in the kitchen.  my heart went pitter-patter.

* we went to the market together like we used to before she started school.  even though she was running and leaping through the store while pushing the little cart, it was so much fun to have her company.  and when we came home, we sat on her bedroom floor playing with her dollhouse.  i realized then how much i miss our quiet daytimes together - afternoons and weekends are not the same.  and even though i'm glad she's getting big and capable, and i'm enjoying her six year old self so much, i was glad, too, for the peek into the way it used to be.

* today was the 3rd grade play at school.  a play about rubbish.  b. was a soup can, but when i arrived in the auditorium, he came running to me dressed as a houseplant.  somebody was absent so he was playing two parts.  he knew everybody else's lines already.  of course.

* my boy the soup can/house plant stood on the stage in front of the whole elementary school and all of the 3rd grade parents and actually acted.  he didn't just recite lines.  he had stage presence and emotion and intonation and he looked confident and so grown up and he was actually funny and everybody laughed at his funny lines.  i was so proud.  not because he was funny, but because he was confident.  and poised.

* and while i was watching him there, among his classmates, singing and dancing and acting away, i suddenly saw him as this independent being with a whole universe of his own.  as someone who teachers and classmates see as capable and flexible and able to do so many different things.  and he is.  he's not just my little boy anymore.  and i was so proud.

* this afternoon, when we were all at home together after the play and the kids were sharing hershey's kisses on the living room floor, i had the unexplainable and unstoppable need to sew ten little beanbags for l.'s counting project at school.  the note from her teacher said to send ten counters - they suggested tongue depressors or dominoes, but i had to make her mini-beanbags.  i knew the urge to sew something was coming - it's been brewing for a bit, so i'm not entirely surprised.  though it did push dinner back.  

i think that's all of it, then.  except that i ate a whole lot of kale for dinner.  i've been enjoying kale lately - sauteed with onion or garlic and olive oil, with some lemon juice and sea salt thrown in at the end.  but i hadn't made any for a week or so - and then heather reminded me that kale is an excellent "restoring-balance" food.  and i needed some restoring of balance today.  it was good.  so good.

now, that's really all.  

see you back here tomorrow for the final day of yellow week.  i'm sad to see it end so soon.  

*alternately titled, "a mosaic of favorites and a whole lot of sentimental thoughts about my children."

(don't forget to see more yellow here.  and here.  and here, too.)

t-minus 2 days

and i'm getting there.  today was the last day of school before winter vacation.  i spent the day trying to get my ducks in a row - for hanukkah, for gifts, for plans - everything for the next two weeks.  of course it's not all done, but once 230 came, i was able to exhale and begin to ease into the chaos that will be our life from now until january 5.

 

during my mid-day frenzy, i actually bought one hanukkah present, and consulted with my brother on several others.  i lined up a few holiday activities (we'll be making these.  and these.  and going to see this.), made plans with some friends to light our candles together.  and ate a good bit of the dough i had made for baking cookies this weekend.

this afternoon we got started on our hanukkah activities.  my grandmother had asked us to make her some cards she could send to family and friends.  hanukkah isn't like christmas with the cards, not at all.  but she wanted some, so we made some.  and it was so much fun.  

first, i had b. and l. each draw a small hanukkah picture on plain white paper.  i drew boxes on the paper to give them the approximate size i was looking for.  (l.'s was much bigger than the box i drew for her, but we loved it so much that we figured out how to make it work.)  we transferred the drawings onto some of these,and carved them into stamps with one of these.  i've been carving rubber stamps for a while now, and enjoying it immensely - the stamps are such a quick fix, they're perfect for a small design, for a whim.  and they were perfect for this project. 

but then, just because it's winter vacation and i was starting to feel all festive, i broke out martha's glitter and let the kids go to town.  and the cards look fantastic!  we even stamped the envelopes.  and we're going to add my grandmother's return address to the envelopes too, before we deliver them to her tomorrow.  just to make them as user-friendly as possible.  

i'm so pleased with this little project.  fun, quick, a little something for everyone.  and we've done something kind for someone else in the process.  (can you tell this made me happy?)  now, i'm trying to figure out what else i can stamp with these hanukkah stamps that i love so much.  and thinking i might have to make one of my own.

t-minus 3 days and counting

hanukkah starts sunday evening at sundown.  my kids winter vacation starts tomorrow at 230 in the afternoon.  and i have not done one single thing to get ready for this holiday season, save for taking out the box of supplies and listening to this song over and over.  that, and making peppermint bark and sugar cookies - neither of which has a blessed thing to do with hanukkah.  it's just that martha suggested, over on flickr, that my holiday spirit might return if i eat some holiday cookies.  i'm testing her theory.

really, though, i think my lack of seasonal enthusiasm has more to do with having had an extraordinary holiday season last year - full of meaning and celebration and joy.  and, too, that the world doesn't feel very festive to me right now.  i'm overly aware of how my children need nothing (they practically can't even think of things they want), of how i need nothing, of how desperately i don't want to spend money on things that are not needed when there are so many who need so much.  so i'm struggling with the spirit a bit.  and i'm alright with that.

on sunday the holiday will begin.  there will be candles and latkes.  there might be small gifts.  there will be family and love and joy at our table.  and it will be good.  

in the meantime, i'm planning to be back in this space before then with a few little things to share.  but first, those cookies.

circles on deck (and a snippet of conversation from my everyday life)

driving to gymnastics on tuesday afternoon, alone in the car with l. (age 5), we happened upon a fire truck and an ambulance and a car that had crashed into the side of the road.

l: what happened?

me: looks like that car crashed.

l: good thing it wasn't us.

me: yes, good thing it wasn't us.

l: because i'm not wearing such nice shoes.

of course.

junk.

[i feel that i ought to warn you, at the outset, that this is a long winded post devoted to my dislike for little plastic toys. i'm not referring to legos and playmobil and the like; we've got plenty of those and we love them. and i'm not condemning plastic altogether. today's post is specific to a certain kind of plastic toy that i just don't care for. and, as always - and i truly, truly mean this - these are my feelings about what works for our family; i fully respect and appreciate everyone's choices about what works for them. really.]

my children have recently come into some, um, junk. junk. those little colored plastic whosamajigits that you get when you go to the dentist and they let you pick a prize (or three) when you're done. a whole bunch of those. and some squishy foam cubes, a blue bear-guy, a shiny stuffed orca whale, and a blow up airplane.

it's carnival time around here. next week we'll be celebrating the jewish holiday of purim, when we'll read the book of esther and rejoice at the bravery of queen esther and how she saved the jewish people from death at the hands of the persian king. it's a very festive holiday, with all sorts of dressing-up-in-costume and merriment and the like. and there are carnivals for kids. the kind in the synagogue basement where you pay five dollars and your kids can play unlimited games and win lots of junk prizes.

that, and we went to the dentist.

so we've come into a goodly amount of colored plastic whosamajigits in the last few days. which has caused me to reflect on how it is that i handle this junk - how i used to handle it (not at all, allowing it to take over and proliferate into every far-flung corner of our home), and how i handle it today.

i'm not very nice, on the great mama scale, about the junk. i don't like it. i don't like how it's made who-knows-where out of who-knows-what. i don't like how it creates all sorts of conflict and desperate last-minute-before-bed searches for its little plastic-ness. or worse, last-minute-before-school hysteria. i don't like how its little pieces wind up, invariably, under my bare feet while i'm walking to the kitchen for a late night glass of water. i don't like how it breaks in ten minutes and causes otherwise perfectly reasonable and angellic little beings to break into uncontrollable sobs.

i used to "disappear" the junk, along with a variety of other items like scribbled-on papers and tattered baby books that my children could not bear to part with. i would send d. and the kids to the playground on a sunday afternoon, and hunt through the house for all of the offending items and dispose of them (double-bagged and placed in the outdoor cans to avoid any chance of discovery) before the kids returned.

and though most of the time nobody noticed anything missing, all of that "disappear-ing" did lead, invariably, to some questioning. "have you seen my bright-pink-whosa-ma-jiggy? i'm sure it was on the dining room table." or "where is that paper-mache volcano i made in pre-school when i was four?" and that questioning ultimately led to me saying all sorts of things like, "hmmm. haven't seen that for a while. wonder what happened to it!"

but one day, a few years back, i got tired of the game. tired of the chase, the secrets. tired of the lying and the hysteria. i got clear about my problems with the junk. and i decided to trust myself and my kids.

so i sat them down and explained it to them: these toys are junk. they don't last. they're going to break. they take up space in our house. they take up space in our heads. we have so many wonderful, creative, lasting things to play with and enjoy. and i want to limit how much of this we keep in our home.

and do you know what? they got it. they absolutely got it.

we purged the junk. together. and they were happier, lighter. it was better, for all of us, being able to find and focus on toys with real potential for play. not having the constant hunting for the green alien with the parachute and hysteria about the orange plastic bookmark with the googly eyes. less mess. less stuff. so much better.

of course, they still love their junk. (and, i'm happy to say, we've devised a marvelous system for managing the junk that we do keep.) last year, at the purim carnival, when l. opened her bag of prizes at the end of the afternoon, her eyes got wide and she looked up at me with delight, and said, "it's junk!!!" but we sorted the junk on that march day last year, and each child kept their few favorite bits. the rest went out that afternoon. we kept just enough to enjoy, keep track of, and appreciate. and that was that.

this past sunday, when i told the kids we were going to the purim carnival (the first of several), b. said, "we'd better plan some time this afternoon to sort the junk." (can you se me, there, beaming with pride and joy at my boy?)

we haven't sorted yet. and we've been to the dentist, in the meantime. so we've got some work to do. but for now, the kids are enjoying their little plastic bits and bobs. and i haven't stepped on anything. yet.

winter whites, 4 (and a report)

it does come back. all of it. every last bit of baby-love comes right on back. the sleeping with one ear open, the ability to distinguish between "ba" and "ba" (ball and bottle), even the ability to hold the baby in one arm and do anything you can imagine of with the other. it all comes back. but of course, you all knew that it would. thank you, thank you for all of your encouraging comments yesterday. they are so much appreciated (my brother got a kick out of reading them, too!), and they gave me just the confidence i needed to attack this day with gusto.

it has been so much fun. smelling that baby smell. watching these three little people enjoy each other as much as they do. snuggling up with a baby before her nap. remembering what it's like to see the world through brand new eyes. singing (and singing and singing) in the car and at dinner and at bedtime.

but man, i don't know how you people with three kids do it! i am tired. it is hard to make three breakfasts and two lunches at the same time at seven o'clock in the morning. and it's hard to walk a child into school carrying a baby and her two dollies and the child's backpack and lunchbox and then explain to the baby why she is not staying at school. it's hard to navigate between two children who want the undivided attention of one toddler, and who really don't understand how to play with a toddler in the first place. oh, and all of the carrying! sheesh. i'm out of practice.

i had grand plans for us today - me and the babe - the library, a quick stop at the market (note to self: nothing is quick with a baby), a visit to my grandmother in her nursing home. of course, by the time i got both kids off to school and cleaned up from breakfast and ate my breakfast and packed a bag and got myself dressed, it was just about nap time. so i shuffled up the plans and made the visit to my grandmother our only major outing.

our time with my grandmother was short - the babe was already tired, and feeling understandably shy. but i was reminded, as i am reminded every time i visit my grandmother with my own children, how extraordinary it is to be standing in a room with my grandmother and her great-grandchild. how enormous is the span of time and love wrapped up in that little space? it gives me the shivers every time.

and since it's winter whites week, these serving pieces were my grandmother's. given to me years ago, when i was newly engaged and she was making a big move. they sit on a shelf in my dining room behind glass doors where i can see them every day; where i can watch the days and months and years pass by these timeless dishes that have served up nourishment to four generations of my family. and i am reminded, again, of the vast expanse of time and love that came before me, and all that is yet to come.

winter whites, 3 (and a visitor)

this was my brother's lunch today, in my kitchen. he drove in from philadelphia this afternoon with my niece - my sweet 16 month-old niece who is spending the next three days with me while her daycare is closed unexpectedly. she has never been away from home before, and i haven't changed a diaper in three years. but i'm crazy about her-little-baby-smelling-finger-gripping-just-starting-to-talk-self. and my children are over the moon - other than the arguing about who gets to sit next to her in the car and at the table.

i made her a delicious dinner of tofu, pasta, and peas - and she gobbled it up. i changed three dirty diapers. i put her to sleep. we're off to a good start, i think. my fingers are crossed. i'm hoping it's just like riding a bike, and that the being-with-a-baby feeling is going to come right back. in fact, i can feel it already.