Sudsy Soaks.....

After a snowy day filled with shoveling and sledding, there was a long, long bubble bath. While they scrubbed clean, I soaked the moment up, knowing these days of bathtub sharing will soon end. It's times like these that wash the memories of them bickering about bickering away, and give us a nice, clean palate for sweet dreams.

Easy like a Sunday morning...

I've been undressing this little moment in my mind since 6 o'clock this morning.

Being There....

Just before Christmas, a close friend of Greta's lost her Father in an ice boating accident. I heard the news on the morning of the Solstice and thought that the darkness on that day was eerily appropriate. When Greta found me crying in the kitchen and asked me what was wrong, I told her the truth. Her response was to ask a few simple questions, some pertaining to the accident itself, and she wondered if her friend would be in school that day. Then she slipped quietly into her bedroom to dress her dolls.

The next day I received a phone call from the little girls' Mother, who asked in a wispy voice if the girls could get together soon for a little play time. I stumbled through the conversation not knowing what to say to a woman who had just lost her husband, besides the trite "I'm so, so sorry", and the "of course, she is always, always welcome at our home, we'd love to have her". She said she just wanted her daughter to be able to be a little girl, to play and laugh with Greta, she said she thought that they were kindred spirits.

So it was arranged that while our household was focusing on storing leftovers, and vacuuming up wrapping paper remnants, and theirs was organizing the order of services for the funeral, there would be a play date. She came over wearing her new pretty dress that Santa had brought her for Christmas, and a big red satin bow in her hair. She brought two big candy canes for them to share, and a little peppermint stick for Simon. They played dolls, and dress up, and then settled in beside the Christmas tree to break in Greta's new Connect Four set. I had to stop myself from interrupting them, pulling Greta aside, and encouraging her to let her friend win the game. I made them grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner, and drove her home after. It was two days later when I realized that she'd left her hair bow under the Christmas tree where they played.

The morning of the funeral, the little girls' Mother called me again. "You have no idea how bizarre this feels," she said, and then she asked about the hair bow. Was it at our house? Could we drop it off? It was really, really important to the little girl to wear it in her hair to her Dad's funeral. I pictured the days that the bow spent at our house, Greta trying it on and gazing at her image in the mirror, even getting it perched precariously in Simon's hair for some quick laughs. When I dropped it off, their house smelled like shampoo and coffee and the Mother was in her bathrobe with a towel on her head. She thanked me and said "this will make it almost all better, for now..". Later that day when I sat in the back of the overflowing church, singing songs that I'd never heard, and hearing stories about a man I'd barely met, I couldn't take my eyes off the little red bow in the front pew.

We wish we could take it all away, but Greta and I have talked a lot lately about grief and loss, and come to the conclusion that sometimes all we can do is be there, with red bows, Connect Four, and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Once Begun is Half Done...

The satisfaction of completion is elusive in my role as Mother and Homemaker, in fact I oftentimes feel like I never actually finish anything. Once a snack is prepared, enjoyed and cleaned up after, there are few sacred moments before bellies are empty again. The satisfaction of reveling a shiny kitchen floor are merely blinks before winter boots are tramped inside to sweat dirty snow puddles back onto it. If I'm in my rhythm, on my game, these things slip under my radar, and I accept that with the craziness (and wonderfulness) of life with children, comes dirty kitchens, and mountains of unfolded laundry, but somedays it feels more like battling chores and less like living life.

The holiday celebrations that felt at moments like they may never stop celebrating, also delivered some quiet moments in between cooking and cleaning and shopping and wrapping, to start, and yes, to finish a project. It was during the peaceful evenings that followed the bustle of the day, and while warming up with hot tea after sledding, and in those precious moments when just sitting and knitting and sharing space with my family was entertainment enough, that this little project was completed. With all of its novice knitters' imperfections, it offered me a lasting feeling of accomplishment, and the recipient was gracious and proud despite the several uneven rows.

In this new year, and new decade, I hope that I can finish more projects that fill me with such satisfaction, be a more available and present person to my friends and family, and accept my imperfections with grace.

Surrender Dorothy...

After a balmy November, todays wind chill is like a literal slap in the face. I had big plans for this morning. A trip to the craft store, conquering the growing pile of recycling, and catching the Saturday morning story time at the library. Simon protested getting dressed, insisting on staying in "cozy PJ's" as he put it, and I couldn't really blame him. Greta began rehearsing a one girl dance recital that is taking place tonight (full with tickets, posters and costume changes), at approximately when-Dad-gets-home-from-work a clock (he is 1/3 of the audience mind you). The weather and the children seemed to be in synch, and once I caught up with them and surrendered my plan, the morning was succulently smooth. I hung our new bird feeder from a nearby tree branch, made pancakes, and did laundry, while Simon stood watch at the window, hoping to catch the first glimpse of hungry bird friends, all to the tune of the Nutcracker Ballet (which I'm pretty sure is the soundtrack to Greta's recital...). Lazy Saturday mornings, really nothing beats them.

Checking it twice....

There are lots of lists being listed around here lately. Lists of ways to winterize this big old drafty house, shopping lists that include fun things like molasses and nutmeg, lists of friends and family that will soon receive holiday cards, not to mention the ever changing lists scattered around the house beginning with "Dear Santa". Living amongst so much "to do" can make me feel paralyzed about where to begin. Sometimes I find it helpful to record what we have done, it isn't very productive, but it comforts the longing to be doing more by reminding me of how busy we are doing the fun things that this season brings with it.

- We went "over the river and through the woods" to celebrate Thanksgiving with family.

- We met Santa on a dreary drizzly day, and watched Simon fumble through his first candy cane.

- We went to a very sweet children's holiday event hosted by the Farnsworth Museum, where we saw a puppet show, and decorated cookies with pounds of green and red sugar.

- Attended our first nighttime parade, at which Simon got to see up close his favorite holiday character thus far, The Grinch.

- Spent the day with some girlfriends that I don't see nearly often enough (and our combined 10!! children).

- I chaperoned Greta's class trip to see The Nutcracker Ballet, while Simon had his first Mom-free play date with friends.

- We found and chopped down our Christmas tree, and then reunited with our ornaments and made a paper chain.

- We went on the Polar Express and witnessed the elves at work.

- Greta saw a production of Annie with her Nana and her Aunt Amanda.

- We made yummy gingerbread drizzled with caramel sauce, and ate the whole pan in two days.

- We taught Simon "Jingle Bells", and are working some other tunes.

We are expecting an old fashioned winter storm today. Greta's school is dismissing early. I guess the to do lists will have to wait while we spend the afternoon playing in the snow, sipping hot chocolate, and stringing popcorn for our tree.

American Pie....

Surely many kitchens across the country looked, sounded, and smelled similar to the way mine did today. The flour nestled in every nook of counter space and the random apple peels on the floor. The squeals of delight that come from the stickiness of fresh dough to the fingers. And the sweet, sweet smell of apple pie, mixed with a little sugary smoke, the sign of a pie bubbled over and filled to the brim with juicy goodness. Have a tasty Thanksgiving.