MommyCoddle

off the cutting room floor

The back of my National Geographic magazine has a page that shows one picture that didn't make the cut. One picture that was tossed aside and didn't make it into the preceding pages of stunning photography. Yet there was still something special about the photo. Special enough to rescue it from the cutting room floor and share it at the close of the magazine.
When I go through my week there are many posts that get written in my head that never make it to the blog. And there are many pictures that get taken but never shown. So today, I decided to rescue a few of those shots from my past week or so and share them here together--off my "cutting room" floor, if you will...

There is the picture that is one of my favorites I've taken in a really long time--shot holding my camera out the car window, feeling warm and blessed for the beautiful place where I live and wide open spaces.

The sunset shot, on the same evening that really captured the colors my eyes were seeing.

A day of lingering in the parking lot of the farm, watching the girls roller skate. The lingering that put me in the right place at the right time, to hear someone's cries for help, who was seriously hurt.

The post that made me notice and appreciate an early morning with all my girls in the kitchen with me.

The climax of the Star Magnolia tree outside my grandmother's porch.

The pillow--made for my dear college girlfriend--who sent me "the" envelope--and asked me to put together a package that would reveal the surprise to her and her husband. The pillow says, "oh boy!".....

The rainy day of math disguised as games...that started out so fun, but soon turned to attitude problems and then ended with me, sitting on the floor by myself wondering what happened.

Sometimes it makes me sad, when an idea or a moment, doesn't get shared. Because more often than not, I forget those moments. I've been keeping a five year journal now for the past six months. When I flip through old entries, I'm amazed while reading those four or five lines I jot down each night, how much I've forgotten. It's just the nature of life, I suppose. So maybe I'll start doing this a little more often--rescuing a few photos, a few stories off the cutting room floor at the end of the week. Then just maybe they won't be completely forgotten and that simple sentence or picture will remind me of a moment, a lesson learned, or a beautiful view that I don't want to lose.

the boys are back in town

Dan and his brother arrived safely home after a 21 hour drive, two fill-ups of a 50 gallon diesel truck, and a stay in a hotel that, as my brother in law put it, "I felt dirtier after my morning shower than when I began." But they are here.

My sous-chefs and I went over to the house this morning with egg sandwiches and warm muffins and they were already up to their eyebrows in work. I walked in to a bare dining room floor consisting only of the log beams running across the floor and an eerie view into the basement. They're jacking things up and preparing to lay down the barn flooring later in the day. I try not to ask details, just the basics, like, "Now when we put our dining room table on this floor, will we fall through to the basement?"

And right now, I shouldn't be sitting here, but dealing with the unmade bed on my right, the hairy, dusty floors below me, the piles of laundry I'm tripping over in front of the washing machine, and the thousand legger corpses in my kitchen sink. They come out in droves when our house sits empty for any length of time. And they seriously creep me out.

But I'm drinking my reheated coffee from this morning--three hours later. And taking the moment to pop in and say hello and thank you--for all your overwhelmingly encouraging and "I'm so happy for you" comments from my last post. You're great people. What would I do without you all? Thank you for reading the long version and for taking your precious time to leave me a comment and tell me about your experience, your excitement, your understanding. It really means the world.

More reno pictures coming, I'm sure. But first I must regain control of the apartment homestead.

(The muffins were from the current issue of EDF. The basic recipe and I added a topping made of brown sugar, melted butter, cinnamon, flour and some oats to sprinkle on top. yum.)

Happy Monday. (Oh and go here to get yourself some free pastels from Pentel. One per household and use the promotional code SA2008. )

sunday afternoon :: monday morning

::Sunday afternoon::
Dan is over at "the new house" working to get walls mudded and paint on trim. I'm working my way around the house, trying to regain control of the weekend neglect before the new week starts. The front door of our porch slams open and Emma is there yelling for my help, right away! quickly! I go to the door and she's standing there in her plum-colored fleece and bright green knit cap (mine)--with the spool of kite string in her hand. Except the spool is empty. I peek out the door and see a faint line of string--from her hand, over the roof of the house, above the oak tree, above the barn--to a brightly colored dot of kite flailing in the sky. "I wanted to see how far out it could go. Then it pulled me all the way over here and into the trees. I can't get it down." Barefoot baby on my hip who's enjoying the show, we carefully tug the stubborn kite out of the sky, holding our breath as it tangles in the bare limbs of the oak tree three times before falling to the pavement.

::Monday morning::
Elizabeth is standing at the rails of her crib, squealing. I can hear Emma and Mary in the same room squealing and laughing too. A long wooden board--the adjustable shelf from an old bookcase is propped against the overstuffed chair in Elizabeth's room--a makeshift slide the girls have invented. They are sitting on dishtowels and sliding down the two and a half feet of board and laughing hysterically. Simple joys.

Spring is slowly sneaking in making subjects for my macro challenge plentiful. Everything seems ready to burst, though the landscape still looks a lot like winter when the sun isn't shining. Robins are boldly singing from the treetops and tugging tangled worms from the soft soil. Spring peepers are now just part of the sounds of night. But they still catch my attention when I walk outside. I'm eagerly watching the Magnolia in front of the "Big House". Each branch is in a different stage of openness. More here and here.

Happy Monday, everyone.

fresh air

The house is quiet tonight. Elizabeth has been tucked in her crib for quite some time. Emma went to bed extra early after a meltdown. Dan fell asleep on the sofa after a tough day at work. And Mary was my sidekick, helping me finish up the last dinner dishes, setting the table for breakfast and sneaking off to her bed "quiet as a church mouse."

When I disappear from my blog, like I did last week, it is usually a sign that I'm overextended or something in my life is leaving me uninspired. And to be honest, I'm rarely that busy, so generally, it's the latter. This last week, it has been continued battles with my dear six year old. Is there something about this age? Is it spring fever? I'm not sure, but I'm pulling out all my parenting know-how, all my former teacher know-how, all my "someone I know tried this" know-how, and I'm having little success. I love the girl for the way she feels her way through life, and dives into everything to the fullest--but at the same time--she feels everything and dives into everything to the fullest. It means lots of emotions, and ups and downs, and hurt feelings, and disappointment, and frustration....phew. I can hear my mother's wisdom in my ears, "This too shall pass." I'm holding on to that truth.

So for me, it means I need to work harder to find my moments to refuel and relax. I found one moment this evening--dinner was warming on the stove, Dan and the girls were off on a quick errand and Elizabeth was asleep. I stuffed the baby monitor in my coat, a pair of scissors in my back pocket and headed down to my grandmother's gardens for something to brighten up my table.

The sun was golden and the air was perfectly crisp. It was the breath of air in my lungs that I needed in order to face the rest of my evening with grace and joy.

And now, a quiet house, a kitchen "put to rights" (to quote Mr. Berry), some daffodils on my table, a dark house, except for the glow at my desk, and the prospect of a warm bed and a good book. Another breath of air in my lungs, a release for my mind and my heart and I'm ready to face another day with joy and grace.

And I hope you'll see me here again tomorrow. That will be a good sign.   

tooth fairy revisited

The tooth fairy paid a visit to our house this weekend--for the second time. She leaves teeny-tiny hand-written notes wrapped up in thread with a dollar tucked inside. I had to upload this picture in secret because I was worried Emma would start asking questions. With all the scrutiny I got about Santa this year, I was worried she'd be suspicious of my picture of the tooth fairy note.

Apparently I made some rookie mistakes this year at Christmas, like wrapping a gift from santa in paper I had used on other gifts. We really push how santa and his elves make all the presents so she really questioned how Santa knew how to make a "perfect box for a Breyer Horse, just like in the store". And thank goodness she hasn't noticed the Old Navy tag on the slipper socks she's been wearing around the house. Rookie mistake. Rookie mistake!

Emma's tooth was pretty loose to begin with, but playing a game of wild animals and biting down on your sister's shirt only to have it ripped out of your mouth, can sometimes move things along a little more quickly. There was lots of blood, which everyone found fascinating and to which her sister replied, "Do you have another tooth you want me to take out, Emma?"  What a girl.

This weekend I had a losing my mind, too much clutter, cleaning spree. I always start at one end of the house and work my way around--a tip my mother taught me. I made it about half way around and ran out of time...and now today, I'm out of motivation. But at least part of the house is looking very fine. I think I'll just pretend the other three rooms are clean, too.

And did you notice a familiar name in your issue of Wondertime Magazine this month, besides miss twostraightlines' wonderful craft? My three or four sentences on blogging made it in the "Readers Panel" response to how you keep in touch with far-flung friends and family. I meant every word....

And for those that have been asking, I'm starting to put some brainpower into Mini-Swap III, so be watching for more details. Very soon, I hope! Grace, I may take you up on your offer...

Happy Monday!
artwork provided by emma. Her bird drawings have changed recently. I love them and had to post here for posterity.

3 + 2 + 1 =

six. Emma is six today.

These are a few of my favorite things:
--when I get mad, you get mad. But if my feelings get hurt, it really upsets you.
--you take your field guides and journal on every walk.
--everything has "horse" potential and all topics eventually wind their way back to horses.
--for your special birthday activity, you chose having lunch with your daddy
--you still suck your thumb and rub your toes against your heel--it's why you won't wear sleepers with feet.
--you know more about what's going on around the farm than I do and I always ask you for the details
--you sit and read a chapter book for an hour, even though you can't read them. You even put in a bookmark in the place you left off and come back to it later. You meticulously read through Charlotte's Web for two weeks. Now you're reading Misty of Chincoteague.
--you are a fool-proof mood-lifter for Elizabeth. You can pull her out of any crying  fit. And you watch out for her--taking paper out of her hands, dragging her away from the bowl of cat food, wiping unmentionables from her nose. It doesn't even gross you out.
--you still get in bed with me every morning and ask to slip in to the warm spot where I have been sleeping.
--you are as tough as nails and as fragile as a baby bird, all on the same day.

happy six years sweet love of mine. you were my first baby love. you changed my world.

december 19

"I can't hold back my tears any longer..."

That would be a quote from my five year old daughter as she lay prostrate on her bed, hugging the neck of her rocking horse that was pushed up alongside her.

"I just know I'm never going to get a real pony."
"Cricket(the pony) is the only thing I love in the whole world!"

Me: But don't you love mommy, and daddy, and mary and elizabeth, too?

"Yessss. I love you all, but Cricket is just the only thing that love. I can't hold back anymore."

I have to admit, my dear Emma feels deeply. It literally broke her heart last week when she had to put a big, doe-eyed stuffed fawn (a companion to this book) back on the shelf at Barnes and Noble.

"It just needs me. I can't bear to put it back on the shelf."

And it broke her heart even more this afternoon when she accidentally found it stashed away under my bed, waiting to be wrapped. But it was sweet. Her heart was broken for me, because...

"...we can't afford to get many presents. And now you won't have many special surprises for me."

(I hope you're reading all these quotes with lots of dramatic inflection and phrasing.)

She's just one big, soft, pulsing heart. She feels deeply and responds to everything deeply. Dan and I always remark that she's a lot like the classic nursery rhyme:

   

There was a little girl,
    Who had a little curl,
    In the middle of her forehead.
    And when she was good, she was very good.
    And when she was bad, she was horrid.

Well, at this point, I can't even remember what I came her to post about. Something about gingerbread houses or how absolutely edible this one is.
After I erected the structure of the gingerbread house today, I gave Emma full reign. I was going to try to make it something Martha-Stewart quality, but in the end decided to just let go and let her make her own fun. It was wonderful to watch.

Happy Wednesday.
Six days until Christmas....
Here's a song for you that we're singing along to today...

she's goin' easy on me

7:30 am. me and E. snuggling in bed. everyone else is still asleep. 

I don't know if she felt like she owed me something, after such a tough pregnancy, or if she's just determined to be the sweetest, easiest little baby. But yesterday, I stuck my finger in her mouth only to get it chomped on by a sharp little baby tooth, shoved up all the way through those drooly pink gums. No fussing, no sleepless nights, no ear infection, no runny nose--just a tooth.
Now we did have slobber. Lots of it. The kind where every smile emits a little niagra falls pouring out of the mouth. Shirt-fronts soaked from the belly button up, neck rolls always stinky and damp, big puddles of wetness all over the crib sheets after a nap. You know, all that good stuff.
But she has a tooth! I can't stop saying it because I'm so shocked.
Alright, I'm moving on. You know, there are people out there who make fun of "mom blogs". This is probably the exact kind of post that adds fuel to their fire.

Crafting News: none. My sewing machine is broken. (but my knitting needles aren't!)

Yesterday Dan and I celebrated seven years. The night before, we both handed each other green Barnes and Noble bags with something special inside.  For him, this and a handy, fold-up guide for local birds. And for me, this. I'm already reading it.

It has been a good seven years. We've been through some testing fires and come out on the other side-- still holding on to each other and even more in love. I can't imagine anyone more perfect for me.

I'd be lion if I said I wasn't tired...

My mother-in-law is in town and I'm tired. She's the queen of errand running and I'm running a bit ragged. I miss the simplicity and quiet of our mornings--tidying up, laundry, lessons at the kitchen table, being outside. But, this time with her is important too.
Emma probably gets the award for being more worn out than me. She's got that glassy-eyed look and her lids are a bit droopy and heavy when she looks at me. But she's my intense one and it's hard slowing her down, especially when someone she loves is in town.

Here are some random things from the last few days:

1. Thank you to Julie for the really nice blog mention on the babycenter site.  Find her here, too.
2. I love this project of courtney's and the sentiment behind it.
3. And just as stunningly beautiful, but in a completely different way, is this by kristin.
4. The baby sweater is off the needles and sitting in pieces in my bag, ready to be put together. Now I know why people like projects that knit up in one piece.
5. Elizabeth has finally gone full circle--literally--flipping front to back, back to front. She took her grand time on that last one.
6. It's been hot here today, but all of a sudden the curtains have started floating a bit. The breeze is shifting...
7. Thanks for your comments and ideas on my last post. But just to be safe, I think I'll leave it up for a few more days and then remove it from my blog. I worry with those kind of words and topics floating around on my blog, I might get some bad search engine traffic, so I've decided to take it down in a bit. But it left me with lots to think about.
8. This is on my bedside table. I really need another fix. About twenty more pages in my current book (that I'm only reading because there's nothing better) and I'm lost in berry-land again.

together

Every once in awhile, a person has to step back and evaluate....whether you're evaluating the layout of a room, how you spend your time, how you parent, where your money goes, how you're investing in important relationships, etc.
This weekend Dan and I had some good talks about our time, our family, our relationship. It's hard sometimes to balance all that needs and wants to be done and still carve out time for your spouse. Sometimes, it's just not possible. But  noticed lately that I often live this parallel, tag team life with my husband, especially on the weekends. It's like this: "you watch the kids while I mow and weed-whack around the fences." Then, quickly, now, "SWITCH! You put the girls down for naps while I run to the grocery store and make a pass through the farmers' market." And oftentimes, we don't 'meet up' until the end of the day, when we're both tired and worn out from getting the 'must-do list' done. And lately, it's been driving me crazy. I feel like those tag-team WWF wrestlers, who smack hands as they swap places--one jumps out of the ring while the other squeezes between the ropes back into the mix of things.

Dan and I both love to be together. And as much as we love being together, we love being together as a family, too. So this weekend we talked about embracing the everyday-- finding ways to be together doing the everyday things that need to be done. If the garden needs to be weeded, then let's all go out there together and knock it out. If the dishes need to be washed after dinner, then let's put the girls to bed and enjoy doing it together.

Now of course, we won't be holding hands and moving through all of life's chores together. Some things still need to be done--I don't intend to walk along beside Dan while he weed-eats around the fence posts. And I still prefer zipping through the grocery store by myself vs. dragging all the children with me. But there are still many things that we do each day, each weekend, that could be done together. They might not be accomplished as quickly or efficiently, but that's not always what it's about.

So we 'kicked it off' Sunday with a project Dan has been wanting to work on--mapping out some of the trees and woody plants around the farm. We gathered our field guides (this one I highly recommend), notebook, camera and headed out. I much preferred it this way. And even though the girls started melting in the afternoon heat and humidity, and a sassy (overtired) child intentionally dumped the bucket of leaves that we had been carefully saving...it was okay. We both kind of looked at each other like, "We tried. It was worth it. Let's go swimming."

And it felt good. It's nice to come to the end of the day knowing you've spent time together with each other and as a family. There's a contentment and peace in that. A feeling like you've 'checked in' with each other and all is good and right.