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My son loves baseball. Loves it. Breathes it. Lives it. He knows all the players. He knows their faces on their baseball cards. He knows which teams they’ve played for and which ones they are currently played for. This is a really odd thing considering I know NOTHING about any professional sports teams. Nil. Zilch. So you’d think my husband must be some kind of obsessed person himself. But he’s not really, either. He played baseball in high school and loved it, but until we had a son I never heard him talk about it. It must be that boys bring out the little boy in their dads. It started last summer when he was about 20 months, but now it’s in full swing. Suddenly we listen (never watch) to the game on the radio every night. He wants to know who’s up to bat, and what the score is. He cheers when we win, and is sad when we lose. Clearly I’m getting into this too because I just used the first person plural when making reference to the Minnesota Twins. *sigh* He and his Dada go to Saints games, Twins games, and now his own Dada’s softball league games (which was like heaven on earth!!). And he’s trying to win over his sister to the game, too. Overheard in the car yesterday: SuperBoy to SweetPea “Can you say ‘Joe Mauer’? Joooooeeeee Maaaaaawwwwweeeerrrr. Can you say ‘Justin Morneau?’ Jusssssteeeeeeennnn Moooorrrrrrrrnnnnnnooooo. What about Brian Dozier? Brrriiiiiiiiiiiannnnnnn Dozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzier.” SweetPea to SuperBoy: “Dada.…
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What’s cuter than a little girl in a cute dress? Maybe one that is running away from you. SweetPea rocks a new sewing project of mine. The Etsy shop is busy busy and I’m thinking of adding a modern fresh vintage girls’ clothing line. We’ll see. I have oh so much fabric in my dresser of wonders (fabric stash) that I want to make a billion things out of. This one is a soft blue corduroy lined with a new organic cotton print, and a little do-da on the bottom corner with a “V” for my Goddaughter and niece for whom I made the dress. Now I have to make Sweets a matching one. I made SuperBoy a pair of pants in this fabric but they’re not that exciting. My girlfriend Mary pointed out they kinda resembled hospital scrubs. And she was right. Also on the horizon: being a contributing writer to two new projects. Will keep you posted once my writing is actually up there. Pretty darn excited about it. My sisters and I started working on a children’s series two years ago. It’s finally getting momentum again. Woot! Now, to summon the muse and get cracking on my posts. And to finish cleaning up the sewing studio. And mending pants & hems. And the endless list of around the housisms. And laundryisms. And gardeningisms. Pretty darned blessed around here. Love this little girl. And her big ears that stick out.
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This post applies to any woman out there who’s run down, rabid, raggedy, and feeling like a wreck. Many of those inhabitants of this subset are mothers. Some are workaholics. Some are naturally prone to being hygiene deficient. Others are simply too busy to feel human. Or particularly female. SweetPea is showing off a new dress in her stylish way here! She’s taking the steps. We need to too. 1) Prayer or meditation time. Studies show again and again that taking time away from your busy day for mental prayer or meditation greatly improves your outlook and mental health. It’s a very necessary part of functioning fully as a human being. Connect with yourself; connect with your higher power. For me, this means trying to pray a Rosary daily. In the least, I check in with God in the morning when I wake up, as I trot to SweetPea’s bedroom to do her 5am wake up nursing, and then again in the evening when AA and I pray together. Sometimes it’s just a simple set of prayers. Sometimes we pray something called the Liturgy of the Hours which is ancient and gorgeous. We pray with the kids often throughout the day, at mealtime, bedtime, and nap time. Nap time prayers are specifically for my brother who just deployed to Afghanistan as an infantry officer. SuperBoy loves his Godfather! 2) Take care of your face. Okay. We’re not getting any younger. And if you’re up with kids half/all the night, your…
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Mothers are made of steel stomachs when a child throws up on them, the stomach that is. Mothers are made of late night prayers and warm energies sent out for their Godchildren. Mothers are made of those women in our lives who’ve lifted us, inspired us, fed us, and shown us how to fail well, and how to come back better. Thank God for mothers! My mother is the most remarkable woman I know. I aspire to be like her!
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Don’t laugh. In Minnesota we indoor garden. Yes, this is because it’s mid-May and we can barely plant even now. Yes, we had snow recently. Yes, we do chose to live here. And yes, I’m blog about our compost, {Compost} {More on Compost}, and our garden so much there’s a whole section on it. Our solution for my dearest urban farmer husband’s insatiable desire to plant and eat the work of his hands? Start from seed. Early. Grow indoors. Then someday hope to get it outside. His office is a jungle of green house mess. He is probably the healthiest man I know who sits at a desk for 11 hours because he’s surrounded by plants providing him with fresh air! Kale from last year’s garden AA unearthed and kept alive indoors all winter. This is the only branch that made it. He & SuperBoy planted seeds and placed these pots in the kitchen windowsill. And they’re growing! This guy lives under the light we keep on in the hallway for the kids, and then during the day, migrates to the bathroom windows. It’s a morning ritual SuperBoy reminds me of if I forget. It’s working. This whole photosynthesis thing. We did a replant of green onions. Works like a charm! Also can do this with lettuce, celery, etc. {Repurposed Gardening} And they’re on AA’s dinner plate every single night (regardless of what we’re eating!). And here’s AA’s office green life: Who cares if any of it produces? The best…
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If your almost 3 year old is anything like mine, he’s emotional. He’s adamant. He’s sweet. He’s unexpectedly helpful. He’s obsessed with his little 1 year old sister. He’s a terrible listener. He’s a great listener. It’s a whirlwind of ying, yang, up, down. Every day I feel like I’m navigating the rain forrest of his emotions with no compass, no map, and very few provisions. That’s probably why sometimes SweetPea and I take shelter in her room while he’s raging in his. I’ve written about tantrums before {Three Key Steps to Taming Your Tantruming Toddler}, {Two and a Half Year Old Terror, That’s My Kid}, {Big Boy Battles, Loving Discipline for Your Preschooler}, {Parenting 101: Don’t Borrow Trouble or Ask Leading Questions}, and a whole section on Toddler Behavior. BUT I’ve learned a few ways that–at least for now–can assuage his terrorizing heart while still being a firm boundary for him. Without spanking. Without losing my temper and fiercely wanting to make.him.do.it.now.and.listen!!!! I’ve identified three phases of emotional meltdown: a) the whine, b) the defiance, and c) the all-out freakout. 1) The whine. When I ask him to do something, if he doesn’t listen right away, there’s an immediate consequence. “Please stop pushing your sister down” or “Please do not swing the bat near your sister’s head.” Generally, whining for him is related to me asking him to stop a behavior he knows he shouldn’t do. It’s not requesting an affirmative action on his part, more like an omission…
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