Things I Will Miss: Day 2

The Piles. Yes, that's right. The same piles I typically wish I could make disappear. I can't count the number of times I've thought that somehow my days would be a little easier if I had an organized system that kept the house perpetually clean. But there will come day when the house is organized without kid-centered piles and it will feel a little too big, a little too quiet, and a little too empty. I will miss seeing the footprint of how we spent our day.




The tantrums (even the really ill-timed ones). There will come a time when I wish she would tell me anything, even if it comes in the form of screaming, because I will not be the person she turns to when she is in trouble.

Her incomplete sentences. One day she will speak perfectly and I won't have this constant reminder of her amazing ability to learn so quickly something so complex.

Things I Will Miss...

A little over a month ago, Audrey and I were swaying in the kitchen, she dangled from my neck like a large warm teardrop pendant. We had fallen into a nightly winter habit of turning on her favorite songs and rocking to the beat, our images reflected in the glass of the microwave. Catching our reflection, I reached for the camera and took our dance to the basement where Jason was working. "Can you take a picture?" I asked. "I'm going to miss this."


At times, I catch myself saying something like, "Won't it be great when she talks (walks, stops wearing diapers, can be reasoned with)." But more often, and at an increasing frequency, I find myself storing away images of all the things I will miss about this time and wishing I could slow things down and just keep swaying a little longer. So if you would all kindly oblige me, this week I'm going to focus on a few things I'm going to miss.

For Posterity's Sake: Week in Review 9

These are the unexpected surprises you get when you ask your two-year-old to set the table: the napkin and silverware artfully placed and a side of stuffed animal.

I was also surprised later that day when Audrey informed me that she wanted to "watch Tiger Woods, TV." I think she's been conspiring with her Dad.

Singing has become Audrey's most common form of artistic expression. On Tuesday, she began singing at the table. When Jason tried to join her she looked at him and said, "Stop singing." When he continued, she said, "Stop singing now." When he still hadn't stopped, she said, "No singing!" I guess she prefers her act solo.

But last night, when we came down from bath time to find Jason practicing his Guitar Hero skills, she jumped behind the drum set and began beating on the drums. When the song was finished she threw her arms up in the air and yelled, "Yea! Like it!" Apparently, Jason doesn't get his own solo act, either.

After reflecting on this week and how much singing and music have played a role in our days, this last story (my favorite of the week) really should not have been that surprising:

Monday, Audrey and I had just returned from the library. While there, we checked out two DVDs. Audrey is allowed to watch DVDs or shows that I've prerecorded for her. I try to keep her TV watching to a minimum, during the time I'm trying to get dinner made before Jason gets home. On this Monday, I was trying to get dinner started and talking on the phone. Audrey was asking for one of the new DVDs, so I obliged. Now, I have to admit, our trips to the library are pretty chaotic. Audrey sees the library as one large labyrinth of sorts, purely for her running pleasure. Our trips go something like this: I dash around as fast as I can (usually with a prepared list of things I've looked up on the online catalogue) trying to grab what books I can while keeping her in the stroller or my arms while she tries to wiggle free and run screaming down the aisles, occasionally ripping books off the shelves. This was the scenario on Monday as I was attempting to find a suitable DVD for Audrey. As she took off running, I grabbed a DVD that had a picture of a cat on the front. I flipped it over to skim the back as I took off after her. I stopped reading when I saw that it was a cartoon from the 1920's, thinking "I'm sure they had tighter censorship then. This should be fine." What, in my frenzied state, I forgot to think was, 1920's, height of the silent movie. I soon remembered, however, after popping "Felix" in for Audrey to watch. I was about to get off the phone to get dinner on the stove when Audrey started screaming from the couch, "Fix it, Mama, fix it!" I guess silent cats with thought bubbles just aren't her thing.

I can't wait to see what surprises she has in store for us next week. We hope your weekend is filled with a few sweet surprises, too.

Can You Find The Circle?

Do you remember this February walk I took with Audrey? Well, I have a confession to make. I had meant to take her to the zoo that day. Unfortunately, I'm not one of those put-together moms with an accurate planner and spare wipes in the car. Had I been one of those moms, I would have checked the Internet before leaving the house and discovered that the zoo is closed on Tuesdays during the winter months. Once at the closed zoo, I had to come up with an alternate plan for the afternoon - quick. I opted for a walk along a path close by and invented a little game unimaginatively called "Can You Find the Circle?" As Audrey and I walked, we searched for circles: those occurring naturally (the bottom side of a pinecone, a hole in some limestone) and manmade versions (a clock face and a "no swimming" sign). At some point, I began taking pictures of the circles we found. This made Audrey even more determined to find circles. Every once in a while, being a non-planner works in my favor. This accidental day turned out to be one of my favorite afternoons that we've spent together. It has inspired many more days filled with circle hunting and picture gathering. We've amassed quite the collection of digitally-captured circles. This morning we sat down with our artwork.





I found a bound book with blank pages that has been hanging around since my childhood. I think I bought it for myself at a gift shop while on some family trip. I'm sure I had some great idea in mind for what that book would become when I bought it, but obviously that idea never came to fruition. Today, we finally gave that book a job. (For those of you interested in a similar project, but unable to find bound books with blank pages, I found a tutorial on how to make them here).

We decided to create a photo journal of the shapes we find. First, I developed mini prints of our circle pictures. I backed them with colored cardstock. Then, Audrey used double-sided tape squares to attach the pictures to the book's pages, ordering them any way she liked.

Of course, we only made a couple of pages before she decided it was time to move on to other things, like running around (who can sit still for long when we're on the cusp of Spring?). But I have a feeling that we'll be back to it soon, adding new pictures, new shapes, and memories of many walks yet to come. Looks like this book just might be destined for something great, after all.

Finally!

Last summer, we grew our first family garden. We started late, in June, after most of our gardening neighbors had already begun to harvest greens and radishes. But, I had this dream of a little raised wooden bed and dreams die hard, especially when an empty yard is involved. Jason jumped on board, turned my sketch of a simple raised bed into a two-tiered Barbie Dream House of a raised bed and helped me build and fill it with what gardening center leftovers we could find. We planted sugar pie pumpkin seeds around the perimeter of the garden. To say they took root would be an understatement. To say they took over, well, that's a little more accurate. We harvested several small pumpkins. In November, I roasted a few, scooped out the baked insides, and pureed them in the food processor. I froze the pureed pumpkin with hopes of making pumpkin pies. Unfortunately, I've yet to find a pumpkin pie recipe that agrees with me. (So if you have a foolproof one - and I mean FOOLPROOF, send it my way). Regardless, no amount of kitchen blunders or lack of culinary pumpkin pie mojo could quell my desire to try out the fruits of our summer labor. So, today, Audrey and I donned our aprons and finally got down to business making some Maple Pumpkin Bread (you'll need to scroll down the hyperlinked page a bit to find the recipe).



I have used this recipe several times using canned pumpkin. It calls for three cups of mashed pumpkin, but I thought I'd give it a try with our pureed sugar pie pumpkin. The results? Well, this recipe and I get along just fine.*




But the best thing about this bread is that it reminds me of the our summer garden and the flowers that opened up every morning on the pumpkin vines. Seeing them from our kitchen window made doing dishes seem a little less like the drudge work it usually feels like. Sadly, in the afternoon they would close up like tight cocoons for the rest of the day. Jason and I often commented on how much we missed seeing them after their morning exhibition. But had they been open all day, would we have given them the attention they deserved (and would I have been drawn to do the dishes early in the morning rather than leaving them all day)? Probably not. Funny how so many things are that way.


*Warning: This recipe make a lot of bread. This has never been a problem in my house, but others may not suffer from our spiced carb addiction. Also, the bread is usually darker (and oranger) than the picture above. My pumpkin puree was a lot lighter than the canned pumpkin I usually use. We also took the bread out a bit early, as in, as soon as I was sure it was baked all the way through. We had to leave to make it to a story time on time. What can I say? Today was a practice in really poor time management, but really great bread.

Sticker Shock

Today, while driving to retrieve the repaired necklace from the jewelry store, we pulled up behind your run-of-the-mill car: a gray four-door, much cleaner than mine, driven by a white-haired man with a penchant for driving the speed limit. In short, not the sort of car that usually gives me pause. But this seemingly average automobile had a not so average bumper sticker. I wish I could have snapped a picture for you, but I'm not one to snap and drive (so you'll have to settle for the picture above, taken much later while stopped at a stop light). The bumper sticker read:

America Bless

God

Bless America

I read the sticker twice. In all the times I've heard the phrase, "God Bless America." I've never once heard anyone say "America Bless God." (Disclaimer: I'm not one to listen to many political speeches, so odds are I missed it if it's been said). I was touched by how simple, yet profound, the statement was. In most of the cases where I have heard "God Bless America," it's prefaced by a list of complaints about things that someone thinks need fixing. Reading the bumper sticker, I thought, why would God want to bless a bunch of complainers who do little to try to bless Him? Religion or personal beliefs aside, I think most people want to live lives filled with blessings. I know regardless of my works, I have and continue to be blessed. But what a great thought to try to honor those blessing by being one who first strives to bless.

I was still thinking about the bumper sticker when we got home. I did a quick online search and found this site about the Dulaan Project. The group's goal is to help keep the homeless in Ulanbaatar, Mongolia warm. I was drawn to the project because it involves knitting. Then, I read that Ulanbaatar is the coldest capital in the world. Then, I checked out the average monthly temperatures in Ulanbaatar. That's when I started laughing at myself for all the complaining I've done about the weather this winter. And, that's when it all came full circle. I think it only fair, as penance for my whining, to make a hat with it's sights set on Mongolia. Of course, when I went to fetch the knitting needles, I realized the ones I need for the only hat I know how to make are attached to Audrey's Easter sweater. So, as soon as I finish the Easter sweater, I'm casting on for a little hat that will hopefully bless a little one (and keep his/her mama from worrying as much next winter) very far away. It won't be much, but I'm taking this one blessing at a time.

In the Slow Lane

With the exception of a day or two when she has not felt well, Audrey gave up naps on Thanksgiving. Every once in a while, she will succumb to a long drive. This weekend, Jason needed to go into work for a little while. Audrey and I piled into the car with him. My plan was to drop Jason off and run some errands. Twenty minutes into our drive, I looked back to find Audrey asleep, lulled by the movement of the car or forced into relaxation due to the car seat straps. She was still asleep when Jason got out of the car and I switched to the driver's seat. I drove to a jewelry store that I've been meaning to visit for months to get a weakened necklace strand fixed. As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed a firetruck parked at a restaurant across the street, directly across from my windshield. I looked in the backseat. Still asleep.

I can't tell you the number of times I've been in this position and thought, if she's that tired, she'll stay asleep when I pick her up and put her in the stroller. I think it's worked in my favor once. Out of habit, I almost followed suite, gathering my things together to get out of the car. Then I thought, why? I've waited months to come to this jewelry store. Is it going to ruin anything if we don't make it inside today, or if I wait until Audrey wakes up and this is the only errand on the list that gets completed?

I got comfortable in the front seat. I pulled out the bag of knitting supplies that I had brought along (the passenger seat of the car being the place where I get the majority of my knitting done) and a bag of chocolate-covered pretzel that Jason had given me that morning. As I knit another row on Audrey's someday-to-be sweater, I thought about how calming this quiet work was: slow, methodical, productive. Then, I looked out the window. Beyond four lanes of rushing traffic, firefighters were moving between restaurant and truck, between truck and well-dressed managers. Luckily, there was no ambulance on site or customers in the parking lot. As I watched the firefighters clean up, it struck me: that would typically be me. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not comparing myself to the brave ones in the black and yellow-striped jackets, but I often find myself rushing around putting out the small fires of my family: treating the boo-boos and calming the cries. Or, I am the one caught up in the four lanes of traffic, off to get groceries before Toddler Time at the library, seeing the day in increments of time rather than as a series of moments filled with people and environments that come together just this once, for just this moment. But Saturday, I was the bystander. For one hour, I was the one in the jewelry store parking lot, with the sleeping daughter in the backseat and the knitting in my lap. As I munched pretzels and watched those rushing around in front of me, I was struck by what an unexpected gift I had stumbled upon: Audrey asleep, restrained in her car seat and me, restrained by my sleeping child, just watching the day go by.

*Once again, I can't get the line breaks to show up where I want them - sorry this looks like one huge paragraph.