Turning over a new leaf...

I woke up this morning to the sound of hard rain. My latest painting project was outside smearing the newest color (stay tuned, it's pretty wild) all over the driveway, and my to do list was staring me smack in the face. Life pre-kids would have spelled pulling up the covers and tuning it out, but it all needed attention. The kids, the non-sufficient-funds notice (we all get them right?), and the stinky mussels in the fridge. Not all of it glamorous, the good life. But after few phone calls, a trip to the dump, and a full on refrigerator soak, the sun was peeking out, tempting a beautiful Maine autumn afternoon. I love how the difference between breakfast and lunch in fall is forty degrees.

We spent the afternoon romping around in fallen leaves, and eating apples. And Greta lost the first of her upper teeth, making her the perfect model for upcoming pumpkin carving. As she dozed off to sleep tonight she made me promise through her tired raspy voice, to head to bed early, so as not to disrupt the tooth fairy. Good night.

Our first Saturday spent at the soccer field and Greta's first victory!! In all fairness, the win could possibly have had less to do with the skill level on our team, and more to do with the fact that the competition was on the wee side (mostly kindergartners). Never the less it was enjoyable, and Greta showed persistence and confidence on the field.

A gentle little party...

I love planning birthday parties for my kids.  I start thinking about it long before the day arrives and delight in the details that no one else notices.  The guest list, the menu, the craft and the parting gift, I love it all.  This year, with Greta's birthday falling within a month of our move, I felt a little lost.  Secretly, I hoped we could skip the friends birthday party altogether, while Greta secretly (or not so much) hoped to invite every single potential friend from school to a big bash.  In the end we reached a compromise and asked the two girls she has grown closest to in the past month over for a play date and pizza after school on Friday.

I didn't plan an activity.  I didn't buy party favors.  Balloons?  Nope.  The overachieving party planner in me was hanging her head in shame.  

On the walk home from school, they excitedly joined hands and giggled over one another's account of the day, and their plans for the afternoon.  They played happily, ate pizza and never noticed the lack of decorations.  Greta even organized an impromptu knitting lesson and each girl left with a set of needles and ball of yarn on loan to practice with at home.  It was a very special party.

Friendly fire....

When Greta was born I joined a Mom's Group, attended story hour at the library weekly, and enrolled her in a Baby and Mom music class.  In other words, I worked the network of activities associated with her age mainly to be around other people with similar lifestyles, other parents.  In this new peer group, no one ever squirmed at the descriptions of bodily fluids, they listened tirelessly to the details of sleep (or more often, lack there of it), they celebrated with me first teeth, first crawls and first words.  The support was priceless.  When Simon was born, I did very little socializing with other new Mom's.  We lived in a different town, I worked full time, Greta's school life and social life occupied my free time....  Whatever the reason, it just didn't happen, and as a result, Simon has never had any friends his own age.  

Something that provided me solace in the months leading up to this relocation was the fact that I already knew a couple of people in the area.  One was a woman who belonged to the same Mom's group that I did when Greta was an infant, therefore giving Greta a built in friend as well.  The other is a woman I've known for most of my life and I was anxious to reconnect with her and spend some more time with her family.  Her daughter Scout has become a very important person in Simon's little life.  Each day begins with him wondering if Scout will be a part of it, and if he's lucky the answer is yes.  They interact like the maniacs that toddlers are, one moment sharing a heartfelt embrace, the next, scrapping it out for whatever toy they don't really care about.  It's all so normal, and I am so happy for Simon that he has his first buddy, and selfishly for myself that I really like her Mother. 

                                         

Sweet Seven....

September 21st.  My girl's seventh birthday.  Breakfast of pancakes and watermelon... Off to school bearing snacks to share with new classmates....An afternoon spent at the playground with a friend named Molly.... Open House at the South School where Greta has clearly already made her usual impression... Dinner of Homemade mac 'n' cheese and broccoli..... Chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and pink candles.... 

I feel lucky to know her.  She is that great.

The apples of my eye...

Being the food conscience (obsessed) people that we are, making and sharing meals together is a priority that is among breathing and sleeping.  Non negotiable.  Knowing where our food comes from, and procuring it from it's freshest closest source is something that makes both the gathering process a learning experience, and the food healthier and tastier literally and morally.  Hopefully this awareness is something that our kids will be invested in when they are old enough to make their own food choices.  

Any opportunity that we have to share with the children the most direct connection between growing and eating is treasured, and fall in Maine means some good apple picking!!!!!

And it was all yellow....

Moving has been a great opportunity for me to take inventory of all that we own.  Many, many carloads of outgrown clothes, toys and books were distributed to thrift stores, the library and the homeless shelter before we left Hancock, and there was still more "weeding" to do of miscellaneous belongings upon our arrival in Rockland.  The clutter of unneeded stuff creeps up on us quickly and sneakily, and really compromises the energy of our home.  That being said, there were certain things I was not ready to part with, but sick to death of looking at.  What to do??  Simon and I decided a little face lift was in order.

I do so love yellow!!  And  even though this autumn weather is the perfect weather (in my opinion), we all know what follows it, and in those months a little yellow will be just what we need!!

My Mane Man.

Simon's hair is by far his most distinguishing physical feature.  Strangers comment on its color frequently, one even took the time to explain to me the accurate history of the commonly used "towhead".  I'll spare you the details of his diatribe, but rest assured I am indeed spelling it correctly, it has nothing to do with toes.  His wispy locks follow behind his mischief making like a shadow.  The fact that we haven't had it cut yet isn't a statement of protest, it just hasn't happened.  None of us get coifed on a regular basis, in fact both Greta and I usually get trimmed in the kitchen by Adam, and really only when it becomes absolutely necessary.  Lately more and more passersby in our daily travels have mistaken Simon for a girl, sometimes I correct them, and sometimes I let it go.  It doesn't bother me, but it does remind me that someday (probably sooner than later) he will have his first haircut, and take one more step away from babyhood and into boyhood.  For now, with his adventurous personality and zeal for life, his hair is his perfect accessory!

One step closer to a mini van......

I admit that my parenting ideals and philosophies have changed quite significantly to fit into the reality of "living life" throughout the last six (almost seven!!!) years that I have been at this.  I once thought that my children would never be exposed to television, never indulge in sweets containing refined sugar, never play with gender biased toys, never, never, never.  I like to say that I reconsidered these ideals and decided that balance was more realistic than forbidding them altogether, but in actuality it was far less philosophical and grew more out of necessity.  Yes, there are times when Greta watches PBS while I shower, and if a cookie is the bribery that gets me from one end of the grocery store to the other than I concede.  My kids gobble broccoli and swiss chard, and during our recent move we were without television and it was a week before Greta even noticed, so I embrace balance rather than rigidity.  

When Greta came home from school with a notice announcing fall soccer registration and showed enthusiasm to try it out, I had apprehension.  Long days at school with lines and rules and schedules to follow strictly have been balanced by our lazy afternoon walks and dinner making dance parties.  It's a slippery slope, and I worried that soccer was our gateway drug to other extracurricular activities, and that I would become a shuttle service from one to the next keeping track of piano lessons and tap dance and losing touch with the importance of slow cooked meals and down time for my kids.  But Greta was excited, and Adam had fond memories of playing soccer as a child with his father as his coach, so she was registered for fall soccer league at the Rockland Rec Center.  Her first practice was last weekend and was filled with the kind of chaos that too many kids and too few coaches results.  Greta had a great time and I was reminded once again of the importance of balance in life.  Her one night a week commitment will hardly impede our homemade dinners, and in the meantime she's meeting new people and participating in her first team sport.  On a side note, seeing the lack of coaching staff, Adam offered to coach Greta's team which delighted her and me!  With a husband coach, and a daughter on the team, my initial apprehension is quickly evolving into proud soccer Mom!!

                                              

Transplanting my seedlings.

I'm not an avid gardener, in fact my six homely houseplants and a tired looking pot of geraniums are the sad examples of my struggling 'green thumb', but I do have a basic common sense understanding of the art of transplanting.  Be gentle, water often and be prepared for some wilting due to shock.  

Life here on 68 Pleasant St. is quite pleasant.  A larger space for living and playing, a sweet side yard shaded by apple trees to laze about in, and a library, school, and ice cream parlor all within walking distance of our front door.  We fall asleep to the sound of fog horns and train whistles, very comforting.  

Despite all of the benefits of our new home my little seedlings have moments of droopiness.  The school that Greta now attends is quite a bit bigger than her last, and the dynamic is somewhat more sophisticated.  She feels lonely and lost sometimes and as a parent I struggle with what is within my control to fix, and when it's best to just sit and listen.  

So I have been doing a fair amount of watering them (cooking healthy meals, taking long walks, reading endless books, playing in the dirt), and trying to find the balance between being gentle and encouraging, and busy and productive.  I know for certain that unpacking boxes is less important than being present with them through this transition.  Grow strong roots little ones.