celebrations and traditions

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retreat

February 2, 2010 in celebrations and traditions, out and about | 26 comments

This weekend, Lulu and I went on retreat with our mother-daughter group, to the hostel in Point Reyes.

It was a glorious weekend.

The eight pairs of mothers and daughters formed from our homeschooling support group, back when the girls were eleven and twelve. A few of the girls have left the larger group to attend school, but our monthly meetings have helped us maintain our friendships.

We meet each month and explore different topics related to girls and growing up. This last year the girls decided that they wanted our meetings to be less structured and more fun–more of an opportunity for us mamas and our daughters to simply enjoy each other’s company.

We started planning the retreat almost a year-and-a-half ago. And was it easy to find a whole weekend in which sixteen busy mothers and daughters could get away? Nope. The organizing got so frustrating that we almost gave up.

I’m so glad we didn’t. We had such a wonderful weekend. The moms made breakfast on Saturday morning, and the girls cooked a fabulous pasta dinner. Weeks of rain magically cleared away on Saturday, and we had a gorgeous afternoon on the beach. The girls had a few (secret) activities and ceremonies planned, and there were giggles and shrieks and solemnity in equal measure as they were carried out.

Despite all of our scheduling difficulties, we had somehow managed to unknowingly schedule the trip during a full moon. On Saturday night the mothers planned a special full-moon ceremony for the girls. I hesitate to divulge too much, but at the same time, if sharing a bit of what we did might encourage other mothers to get a group like this together for their own girls, and to consider planning a special coming-of-age ceremony for them, I think it’s worth it.

Our ceremony involved having the girls take a one-mile hike in the dark, alone. They followed a trail we had marked earlier in the day. They didn’t bring flashlights–although the moon was so brilliant that they didn’t need them. Each girl began her hike a few minutes apart from the other girls. Each of us mothers were stationed along the trail, waiting with a flickering tea light. As each girl approached us in turn, we shared something we wanted to offer her as she journeys into womanhood: a poem, a story, a bit of insight. At the end of the trail, the girls met up and walked back to the trailhead together, where we mothers had gathered, waiting for them.

The ceremony turned out to be far more moving than I could have imagined. Waiting on the trail, the only sounds were frogs singing, a creek rippling and the waves of the Pacific. Then slowly the sound of footsteps approaching in the gravel would build, and a girl would appear in the dark, to hear your words and receive your hug. And then she would walk on and there would be silence again and in time more footsteps would come. After the last girl left me, I just stayed in my spot, watching the clouds shroud and then reveal the moon, basking in how grateful I felt to be in the presence of some absolutely lovely young women.

As we ate breakfast in the hostel kitchen on Sunday morning, another hostel visitor commented on how special it was that our girls, at fourteen and fifteen, seemed so happy to spend time with their mothers.

“They’re beautiful girls,” he said.

And they are beautiful. Inside and out. I’m still buzzing with how good it felt to take a weekend to celebrate that.

the week in between

December 30, 2009 in celebrations and traditions, creativity, makin' stuff, the bees | 16 comments

The bees had a festive time.

And so did we.

Requisite annual monkey pull-apart bread photo.

Chris and I got, finally, our own stockings. Handmade by Lulu.

Daddy got guitar picks.

Mama got yarn.

Some of the best gifts were old ones.

For a long time, Lulu has wanted an old typewriter. Chris found this one in the shed of his grandparents’ home, after his grandmother died. He cleaned it up, although it still needs some repair work.

How she thanked us.

A while back I asked my parents about a picnic basket they had when I was a kid, that had belonged to my grandmother. They made like they’d given it away, but look what I got on Christmas Day:

My mom can’t quite believe I’m so excited about such a battered old thing. But it’s an authentic Hawkeye Refrigerator! It’s lined in metal! It has a compartment for ice! (Or, these days, freezer packs.) No more cruddy plastic cooler for Park Day lunches!

The best gifts, I think, are the unconventional ones.

Yes, he got Christmas presents. But not long after the gift-opening, this is what I found him doing. Playing with the typewriter box.

This week I’ve been listening to Vespertine by Björk. I have never listened to Björk, just as I have never used an umlaut on this blog. But the album is perfectly quiet and otherworldly for this out-of-time week, this verging on a new year.

Hope your week is peaceful and thought-provoking.

projects, part two

December 18, 2009 in books, celebrations and traditions, creativity, makin' stuff | 14 comments

This post brought to you courtesy of the creativity of the ever-crafty Lulu.

Last Friday I spent the morning descending into the internet hell of IP addresses that would not work, computer settings improperly changed, baffling terms like DNS and PPPoe and DHCP, and several futile phone calls to a so-called service provider who would not help me unless I paid $99 for some service.

I asked Lulu if she would please do something with Mr. T so he would not be totally ignored as I descended further and further into the depths.

Look at what she came up with.

That’s a Christmas ornament for one of Mr. T’s friends. Made with Pokemon cards.

Lulu came up with the project herself. She’d seen something similar, done with photos, in the fabulously fun book I’d bought for her, Photojojo: Insanely Great Photo Projects and DIY Ideas. Somehow she decided that the same idea would work for her brother’s beloved Pokemon cards.

Martha Stewart, I know she’s only 14 and all, but you really oughta hire this girl.

She showed me how she did it, and a few days later (and a few minor yet essential computer settings discovered and changed), I helped Mr. T make a few more. We adapted the basic Photojojo instructions, as per Lulu’s advice. I drew four lines, each half an inch apart on the cards. Mr. T cut along the lines, and I punched the holes. (That part is tough for little hands.)

Mr. T lined up the card strips (a fun little puzzle) and inserted the brads. Two cards made each ornament. According to T, both cards should be of the same color, and the yarn tie must match. Must match.

Oops, he’s got the brads in backwards there. We also had to fold the brad tips in half after bending them, as they were rather long.

Voila!

As I helped Mr. T spread Charizard Christmas cheer, Lulu was up to something new.

She’s stitching up a voodoo doll. Of the actor Robert Pattinson from the Twilight films. Lulu and her friends are Twilight-crazed, but apparently not crazy for Pattinson.

Lulu also found this project in her Photojojo book. I wished I’d gotten better photos of the dolls, with the pins and all, but Lulu snatched them away and wrapped them up before I ever got a chance.

I think the gifts were a hit. All I know is that yesterday at the park, when she passed out three of these dolls to her friends, I heard the most ear-ravaging set of teenage girls’ screams.

Leave me a comment, Martha, and I’ll pass along her number.

if your kid loves wolverine

November 2, 2009 in books, celebrations and traditions, learning, makin' stuff, my waldorf guilt | 24 comments

If your kid loves Wolverine, go with it.

Find the comics at the library; buy some for his birthday.

When trying to choose a gift to make for that birthday, decide on a freezer paper applique of “young” Wolverine. Trace the outline from a comic when he isn’t looking. Do not swear when you cut the wrong microscopic lines in the stencil with your X-acto knife on the day before his birthday. (You meant to do it the day before that, but you’d caught the stomach flu from your kids, which might have had something to do with scraping throw-up from carpets with a bench-knife in the middle of the night, two nights in a row. But that’s another story.)

Be pleasantly surprised to find Wolverine books at the library with interesting content. Reading to him about Stan Lee’s history at Marvel Comics, find yourself intrigued.

When your kid wants to be Wolverine for Halloween, brainstorm how to make adamantium claws. Decide on pencils and paper mache. Buy fingerless gloves and black hair spray.

Ignore your waldorf guilt when it whispers that newly-minted eight-year-olds should wear less violent costumes.

When he takes off the claws at your homeschool Halloween party, and is left with just a black ducktail and sideburns, and he shouts to you across the park, “Mama, make me a sandwich,” note his resemblance to Elvis.

Go hear Michael Chabon give a reading at your favorite local bookstore. (Try not to feel smug when Chabon notes that it’s his favorite local bookstore.) When he reads his heart-kneading essay, “The Loser’s Club” and uses Stan Lee’s rise at Marvel Comics as a metaphor for the role of audacity in art, try not to nod your head too vigorously. You know what he’s talking about! Thanks to your Wolverine-loving kid.

things to do at a lake

July 6, 2009 in celebrations and traditions, out and about | 4 comments

Fish with a cousin.

Kayak.

Learn to drive a boat from your grandfather.

Swim with your siblings.

Be patriotic, even in the act of climbing up a ladder.

Show your dancer’s training while taking a dive.

Take a big jump, and fling your little brother into the air.

Watch fireworks from a boat.

I’ll be back soon with a wordier post. Just thought I’d pop in, so you didn’t lose me altogether to the glories of summer. Hope you had a fabulous 4th.

pondering mothering on mother’s day

May 11, 2009 in celebrations and traditions, creativity | 3 comments

So, did you have a galactic Mother’s Day?

I sure did. This card, made for me by Mr. T, assured it.

His card reminded me that despite all my lacks and failings as a mother–if I’ve nagged too much, and complained too much and forgot to have fun on the weekends because cleaning the house seemed more important than visiting a beach; if I’ve done any number of terrible things the kids might come up with if I had the courage to ask–I’ve done one thing right.

I’ve helped them to become creative people.

H is drawing storyboards and scouting locations for his next film. He found out that he was accepted into a wonderful month-long filmmaking program this summer, at CalArts in Southern California. Chris and I are thrilled for him.

Lulu was feeling uncreative last week. No project appealed to her. Then she saw the art Mr. T was working on: a space scene, complete with spatter-painted stars. And she sat down and came up with this mix of art and poetry.

She’s been working on a monologue and a song for a musical audition, which happens tomorrow. (I think she has the dancing part of the audition in the bag!) My fingers are crossed as far over as they’ll go.

And Mr. T is making galactic Mother’s Day cards. And spending a lot of time living in his own imaginary world.

One of the main reasons I wanted to homeschool the kids was to help them develop and hold on to their creativity. I think all of us are born creative–but it’s easy to lose as we grow up. It makes me so happy to see that my kids are not only holding on to their creativity–they’re letting it guide their lives.

So I’ve done one thing right. Now I just have to remember to nag less. And have fun more.

I hope you all had a wonderful Mother’s Day. Galactic, even.

My mom and me, yesterday. She gave me the confidence to be a creative person. But mostly she taught me how to love.

the garden transformed

April 12, 2009 in celebrations and traditions, makin' stuff | 4 comments

Four days later.

Happy Easter!

the easter garden

April 8, 2009 in celebrations and traditions, makin' stuff, my waldorf guilt | 7 comments

Despite all my Waldorf guilt, there are still some Waldorf-y traditions we keep. For years now, in the week before Easter, the kids and I have made and planted an Easter garden.

We take an old pan, and fill it with soil. We add a “tree” cut from the branch of a real tree, a dry pond, some gravel paths and a cave which H. made long ago, when he was about five. Then we scatter wheat grass seeds throughout, sprinkle on a little more soil, and water the garden.

We add a caterpillar to the cave, and leave him there in the dark, waiting to metamorphose.

It makes for an austere, colorless lenten scene, which is just the effect we’re after. Because, in a matter of days, everything will change.

Working with Mr. T yesterday, I realized that after more than ten years of making this Easter garden, this is probably one of the last times one of my kids will want to help me. It’s a little kid activity. Then again, it’s a tradition, and maybe I’ll be able to wrangle some help, simply for old time’s sake. Either way, I’ll probably keep up the tradition on my own because the garden so beautifully symbolizes Easter, with a simplicity that may work for little kids, but with a depth that can reach anyone.

I’ll post pictures in a few days, to show how our garden transforms.

atwitter: december

December 30, 2008 in atwitter, books, celebrations and traditions, out and about | 6 comments

What a wonderful lull of a week it is, this last week of December. The to-do list is in the recycling bin, and in between loads of laundry and putting away gifts, there’s time to just hang out and play. A few things making me happy right now:

The Christmas tree is still lit. ’Cause it’s not just a day–it’s a season. There’s still some glitter in the air.

Time to play with my camera. Taking photos of food is almost as fun as eating it. That was our monkey pull-apart bread on Christmas morning. Made by Lulu and H. Yum!

H is on break from school. And was even willing to hike with Mr. T and me yesterday. And while I’m a bit envious of all the white Christmases I’m seeing out there in Blogland–even in Portland!–living in California does have its perks.

New music. If you know my sweetie, you know how he prides himself on staying hip to new music. Well, each Christmas my dad does his darndest to surprise us with some music that will impress even Chris with its sheer hipness. (Now, I love my dad, but I wouldn’t exactly call him hip. His little secret is NPR’s All Songs Considered lists.) This year he gave us Fleet Foxes and Bon Iver. Pretty cool music coming from a 70-year old. Good tunes for thinking and puttering.

Making bubbly water. Yes, we are a simple people here on the wonderfarm. Making our own “bubble water” makes for big entertainment. You see, in addition to great music, my parents also gifted us with a soda carbonator. Oh, we’re having fun with this one! And this is another meager attempt to prove our hipness: the latest trend in Bay Area restaurants is doing away with bottled water. Because it’s wasteful. Restaurants are offering their own chilled and filtered water, both still and fizzy. When Chris and I ate lunch at El Dorado Kitchen on our anniversary trip to the wine country and were served some free bubbly water, we admired their snazzy glass water bottles with clamp-on lids. And shopping the next day, we found some of our own:

I’m hesitant to admit how much I love serving chilled water from these bottles. And I just found some red ones online! So we’ll have blue for flat water; red for fizzy. Yes, I know: I’m a geek.

New books. When Chris realized he hadn’t got his book-loving wife a book for Christmas, he promised a trip to Diesel. We went, and I found–oops!–two books. The River Cottage Family Cookbook and this one:

That’s Custom Knits, by Wendy Bernard. How is it that I hadn’t even heard of this book? It’s full of knitting-in-one piece projects! Lots of recommendations for adapting patterns to your liking! Great schematics! I won’t put an exclamation mark on the fact that many sweaters are modeled with bathing suits–silliness. But I’m having a good time perusing and dreaming. The Jane (Ravelry link) sweater is calling to me–but without that ribbon bisecting the bustline. Who needs a bisected bust?

So, how are you entertaining yourselves this week? (Chris, that’s your cue to finally leave a comment. Something like: Well, I’m toiling away at the office so my lovely family can stay home and have all the fun.)

happy christmas!

December 25, 2008 in celebrations and traditions | 4 comments

the elves have been busy

December 23, 2008 in celebrations and traditions, creativity, makin' stuff | 3 comments

Glittering up cones and pods.

Stitching up baby hats for Mama to Mama.

Bashing candy canes to sprinkle on top of cookies for kid-friends. (Could there be a better job for a seven-year-old boy?)

Making sets of cocktail napkins for grown-up friends. These were fun. All the fabric-choosing delight of quilting, but much less effort. I got to use my new serger–which I bought with money earned from my first publication. One creative endeavor fueling another. I like that.

One of the elves has been extra busy in the past few weeks. That would be the Divine Miss L, who just finished the 12 Days of Nutcracker–another way of describing twelve days with four dress rehearsals and eleven Nutcracker performances. This year she moved up from “cute” roles–lambs, soldiers, mice–and put some mileage on her pointe shoes. She was a perfectly sassy Spanish Chocolate, and a graceful and lovely waltzing Flower. This besotted mama couldn’t take her eyes off her dancing Lulu.

I got lots of chances to watch, ’cause I co-chair food concessions for the shows. Which means about a zillion emails and calls to line up 80 bakers, and 50 concession shift workers. Plus stocking the kitchen and decorating, and working six 5-hour shifts. In the middle of December. On top of all the other holiday craziness.

But am I complaining? Why no, I gave that up weeks ago! And busy as the last few weeks have been, I loved getting to watch Lulu dance so often. And it’s always fun to sell hot chocolate and sweets to happy theater-goers. Especially the little girl who brought Joan Baez along to one matinee. (For some reason Chris and I used to love to sing the Tears for Fears’ song Shout, Joan Baez-style. I think we heard her sing it at an Amnesty International concert once upon a time and it cracked us up. We are easily entertained, you must understand. It was hard to look at the real Joan across the counter the other day without wanting to start in: Shout, shout, let it all out…)

Anyway, the elves still have much to do. So I’m signing off for now.

contender for best christmas cookie ever

December 18, 2008 in celebrations and traditions, from the kitchen | 9 comments

Now, I could just post a recipe and some photos. But short posts aren’t really my thing, have you noticed? So I must include a story as well.

I found the recipe for these soft glazed gingerbread tiles in a local magazine three or four years ago. I didn’t have the necessary printed rolling pin, but I used some cookies stamps to imprint them, and they were wonderful. With an irresistible chewiness, lots of spice from a big dose of black pepper, and a stunning beauty that came from the imprint and the glaze. I knew I’d make them again the following December.

Until the following December came and I couldn’t find the recipe. I realized, with horror, that I had neglected to clip the recipe, and the magazine had been long ago recycled.

I checked the magazine’s online archives. They’d started archiving the month after the recipe appeared. I called the local restaurant which had provided the recipe, and found out when the pastry chef would be there. I drove down to talk to her. The cookies were that good.

Alas, it turned out that the pastry chef had contributed a different recipe to the magazine. She couldn’t remember which other local chefs had contributed, and she didn’t have a copy of the issue. But she thought the chewy gingerbread cookies sounded delicious.

Dang!

My local paper seemed to have stopped running its “Lost Recipes” Q and A column, which would have been my next option. I couldn’t figure out what else to do, and I resigned my fate to Christmases without chewy gingerbread tiles.

Then early last December, on a whim, I googled a bunch of gingerbread phrases. It was worth a try. And lo and behold, I found it! The right recipe! I believe I whooped with joy at my computer in the kitchen. I believe I whooped so many times that my family asked me to stop having a cow over a cookie recipe. (A response I’m sure they’re all willing to take back, after having tasted the cookies again.)

Turns out the recipe came from a renowned bakery in San Francisco, Tartine, which has been around for a few years. I haven’t made it there yet, but all reports are glowing. I did receive their cookbook for Christmas last year, and it’s lovely. Gorgeous photos that make you want to start baking immediately, and lots of insiders’ tricks that make it a good cookbook for bakers that already own a zillion cookbooks.

Once I was reunited with the recipe, I decided it was time to invest in my own beautiful carved wooden rolling pin. Sur La Table sometimes has them, but they run out in December, so I ordered directly from the company that makes them: House on the Hill. It didn’t arrive in time for Christmas last year, but we made a batch for New Year’s and gobbled them up before starting on our resolutions.

Here’s a link to a blogger who made them with cutters instead of a pin. They’re lovely as well. You definitely want some sort of imprint on the tops, which she did with a butter knife. It’s the collecting of the glaze in the crannies that makes the cookies so pretty. We learned that with an imprinted pin, you have to really press down into the dough, so the imprint lasts through the baking. (The close-up photo at the top of this post is of some of our first cookies, which didn’t have firm imprints. The later ones came out even better.)

Last week Lulu, Mr. T and I made a quadruple batch and cut them into big 3×3 inch squares. We sold them at our local homeschool make-and-take craft fair. They sold out pretty quickly, probably helped by the bowl of sample bites we put out. It really is an irresistible recipe. We made $38 to add to our Advent Box, to help with the animal we’ll buy from the Heifer Foundation.

Now we have to make another batch this weekend for ourselves and to share. To all those other Christmas cookie recipes out there: Put up your dukes!

season of light

December 16, 2008 in celebrations and traditions, homeschooling | 3 comments

That’s a photo of our Advent wreath, taken during our annual raising-of-the-Christmas-tree fondue dinner. Years ago, Chris and I started the tradition of eating fondue on the evening when we put up our Christmas tree. After all the work of decorating the tree, it seemed so easy to slit open a pack of Swiss Knight fondue cheese and squeeze it into the fondue pot. Nowadays we make the fondue from scratch, and there are lots of dippables to cut, so it isn’t particularly easy. But it’s a tradition, and one which H and Lulu almost always mention when questioned about their favorite family traditions. (Mr. T isn’t so sure. He doesn’t like all that cheese–but he does love the fabulously pokey fondue forks.)

So many cultures celebrate with light during the dark of winter. Candles and lights are an important part of Christmas. They’re also central in solstice celebrations, on St. Lucia Day in Sweden, in Posada processions in Mexico, during Hanukkah, on Diwali in India, during Kwanzaa.

Back when I taught school, my classroom was quite diverse. I had many African-American students, as well as students from Mexico, Guatemala, Afghanistan, India, the Philippines, and Vietnam–to name just a few. Given that diversity, I didn’t feel I should do a lot of Christmas-y activities during December. Instead of dwelling on Christmas in my classroom, we researched the variety of light-centered celebrations that occur around the world during winter. We looked at how those celebrations differ from each other. And how, in many ways, they’re similar.

I liked to culminate our “Season of Light” study with a big potluck lunch in which the students’ families brought food from their own traditions to share. One of the highlights of my teaching experience was seeing the feast that came together from my students and their wonderfully rich backgrounds. We had cornbread and lumpia and a rice dessert from India, and baklava, and chile verde, and–oh, I can’t remember them all.

I do remember the year we had homemade tamales. These came from the family of a Mexican boy in my class. His family was quite poor–as I recall, they lived in a single room. The parents didn’t speak any English, and although I tried to reach out to my Spanish-speaking families with own shaky Spanish, this family seemed too humble to want to bother me. Nevertheless, on the day of the feast this student and his parents brought in two huge trays of tamales. This kid was always a happy kid, but I wish you could have seen him beam as he carried in his tray of tamales. He told me later that his mother had woken up at four o’clock that morning to make those tamales for us.

It’s one of my favorite teaching memories.

This year I’m reading some of the books I read to my students to Mr. T–and Lulu too. And there are so many new ones, sixteen years later! I couldn’t find books on Diwali and Kwanzaa back then. The kids are making some Season of Light accordion books. We’ll learn again what the characters on the dreidel signify, and we’ll play the dreidel game-although we may not get to making latkes this year, with Hanukkah starting so close to Christmas…

Here are a few of the books we’re reading. This certainly doesn’t list all the wonderful books out there; this is just a sampling based on what we own, and what we found at the library.

Children Just Like Me: Celebrations, by Barbara and Anabel Kindersley–beautiful DK book with photos and stories of real children celebrating all the holidays I’ve mentioned (except Kwanzaa), and many others.

The Whole Earth Holiday Book, by Linda Polon and Aileen Cantwell–overview of many holidays celebrated throughout the world.

Las Posadas:

Las Posadas: An Hispanic Christmas Celebration, by Diane Hoyt-Goldsmith–photos and stories of actual families celebrating La Posada.

Pedro, The Angel of Olvera Street, by Leo Politi–sweet picture book about a boy and his Posada. A favorite.

Nine Days to Christmas, A Story of Mexico, by Marie Hall Ets and Aurora Labastida–another classic for younger kids.

The Night of Las Posadas, by Tomie dePaola–nice book which highlights the religious story behind Las Posadas.

Diwali:

The Story of Divaali, retold by Jatinder Verma–beautifully illustrated book retelling the story of Rama and Sita.

(edited to add: After reading this book, Lulu and Mr. T watched the gorgeous 1995 version of A Little Princess, directed by Alfonso Cuaron, which has scenes from the Rama and Sita story interspersed throughout.)

Hanukkah:

(There are lots and lots of Hanukkah books–we read different ones each year. Here’s a list of ten good ones. The Trees of the Dancing Goats sounds wonderful! I’m ordering it from the library…)

Herschel and the Hanukkah Goblins, by Eric A. Kimmel–my boys in particular have always loved this one.

Kwanzaa:

(Another list of 10 great books.)

My First Kwanzaa Book, by Deborah M. Newton Chocolate–nice book for younger kids.

Seven Spools of Thread, by Angela Shelf Medearis–I’m looking forward to reading this one.

Are there any other light-filled celebrations that I’m forgetting? Books you’d recommend? Special ways that light figures into your traditions? I’d love to hear about them in the comments.

the advent box

December 5, 2008 in celebrations and traditions | 5 comments

In the crazy commercial times that can be Christmas, I love the symbolism of Advent. We’re Catholic, and in our tradition, Advent is a time of waiting and preparation. It’s a time of taking the light of the Advent candles into our hearts, and sharing that light with others.

A couple of years ago, in an attempt to make the purpose of Advent tangible to the kids, I came up with the idea of an Advent box. We talked about specific ways we might make ourselves light-filled people. What little acts could we do that might bring happiness to others? We decided to put slips of paper beside the box, and when any of us did something kind for someone else, we could secretly write it down and put it in the box.

At the end of Advent we would count the slips of paper in the box. We would give each a monetary value-I think we made them worth $1-and we would use the money we “raised” to buy an animal for a needy family through Heifer International.

Of course, we aren’t really raising money, so any money earned comes from the family account. But I like the idea of having our actions be the basis of our donation-and the kids are always able to pitch in some of their own money in the end, if they choose to.

If you read my last post, you’ll remember how I was touched by our friend Dave, and his positive attitude. How he didn’t begin his day of driving by complaining, as I think many of us might be inclined to, but instead he recognized the beauty in the morning.

I thought about that for the rest of my morning, and knew what I wanted to work on for Advent: I want to be a more positive person. I want to give up complaining.

I’ve reserved Complaint-Free World from the library. It hasn’t come yet, so I haven’t looked at it and don’t know much about it. Plus, I’m not really a self-help book kinda gal. But I figure it’s worth a skim. I’d like to get the author’s take on how complaining affects us.

But you don’t need a book to give up complaining. You just need to stop complaining. I’ve been trying for four days now, and it hasn’t been too hard. One morning as we tried to rush out the door, and I pointed out the mess that would be waiting on the kitchen table when we got home, Lulu said, “That’s complaining.” She was right. Typically I might have responded with a snarky, “I’ll mind my own complaining, thank you very much.” But crazy as it sounds, I appreciated having her point it out. Because I want to be a successful non-complainer.

It feels good not to complain! I think we believe that complaining releases frustrations and makes us feel better, but willingly refraining from complaining is an even better “feeling better”. That said, I haven’t had to work too hard to restrain my complaining the last four days. They’ve been an easy, positive few days. But have they been positive merely by chance? Or positive because I haven’t complained?

Either way, there are at least four more slips in the Advent box than there were on Sunday. And each says, “Today I tried hard not to complain.”

Each slip gets us closer to a chicken, or a goat, or a llama for a family somewhere in the world. A little light from our family to theirs.

old friends

December 2, 2008 in celebrations and traditions, creativity | 8 comments

Our old friends Dave and Janet and their twin girls stayed with us over Thanksgiving. Dave and Chris have been buddies since high school (and I’ve known them both that long too, which is sort of a scary thought.) Dave and Janet got married the month before we did, back when we were in our early twenties and most of our friends didn’t have dates, much less marriage plans. We had our first babies within six months of each other–although they had two to our one. And when they moved to Portland, we followed them up there and for a year-and-a-half lived three doors down. We ate dinner together most Thursday nights. Those were the days.

Since then, we see each other every few years–in the last two years or so it’s been more often. And what great times we have.

The kids have gotten in the habit of filming a movie each time they’re together. I think they’ve done five now. It’s fantastic–instead of vegging out on Guitar Hero World Tour on the Wii, they’re coming up with plots, filming scenes, editing. This time, perhaps to keep Mr. T from being a bother, they gave him the lead role.

As James Bond.

They actually convinced a bartender at the Palace Hotel to take his order and serve him a fake martini on film. Shaken, not stirred, of course.

There was also a brotherly fight scene on the Golden Gate Bridge which may have slowed city-bound traffic temporarily.

And no, I’m not thrilled to see my seven-year-old swigging martinis, punching his brother and wielding a machine gun, but I guess he’s pretty much ruined anyway. And he does all those things with such style…

He and Dave got to play in an interactive art installation at the SF MOMA. And we posed in front of the Union Square Christmas tree like good tourists. (No fighting or machine guns involved.)

Dave and Janet are some of the most positive people I know. I always end up feeling inspired after spending time with them. Janet teaches at a wonderful private school in a farm-like setting outside of Portland, and I always get exciting homeschooling ideas based on what she’s doing in her classroom. The four of us love sharing recommendations for good books, recipes, vacation destinations, films. (This time they brought down King Corn. Fabulous!) And we love sharing bottles of wine and Zachary’s pizzas.

On Sunday morning before they left, I came downstairs at 6:30 and found Dave in the kitchen, filling up water bottles. He didn’t complain about having to be up at 6:00 a.m., or about the 10-hour-if-you-don’t-stop drive home, or at the fact that he was schlepping bags down our stairs and out into the morning cold. Instead he looked at me and smiled and said, “It’s beautiful out there today.”

It was just a typical line from him, but it made an impact on me, especially on the first morning of Advent. I’ll say more about that later this week.

Good friends are gifts. But friends who also inspire? They’re gifts with a ribbon on top.

abundance

November 27, 2008 in celebrations and traditions, learning | 4 comments

I’ve been collecting leaves, cones and seed pods. Every fall I’m struck once again by their abundance. Not only on hiking trails, but on city streets. Outside the library. At the playground. In parking lots. I pick them up and put them in my pockets. The squirrels and I are giddy. Like everyone else, I’m watching my pennies these days; how rewarding to find so many treasures scattered on the ground, free for the taking.

In Carmel a few weeks back I picked up eucalyptus leaves and pods. I was so glad I had them when I happened, for the first time, to Prickly Pear Bloom and read her post on missing the California of her childhood. I couldn’t bring her back, but I could send some fragrant bits of California to Wisconsin. Check out her beautiful photo of the bits in their new home. Even the squirrels can’t transport them that far.

Mr. T and I did a little classifying of our collection. It took some research because there are all sorts of mislabeled photos on the internet.

It occurred to me that our collection might look lovely strewn across our Thanksgiving table. Lulu helped me with the artful arrangement. She’s quite adept at artful arrangement.

After reading about Three Girl Pileup’s Thankful Tree, I got the notion to cut little fortune-cookie fortune slips of paper for us and our guests to write down what we’re grateful for. To tuck among the leaves, pods and cones.

I’ve grown so fond of my collection–the pods and cones especially–that now I’m thinking I’ll save them after Thanksgiving, and give them a glossing of fine glitter and glue. For the Christmas tree.

But stop me from getting ahead of myself–for today it’s still fall and Thanksgiving. I hope you have a day abundant with food, family, and friends. And gratitude.

presidential

November 7, 2008 in celebrations and traditions, learning, wordlover | 6 comments

Stole this button from my friend Emily. Cause that’s what friends are for. Check out what she did with it. I’m proud to have friends who do such noble work.

My focus for this blog is learning and creativity. I’ve never planned to discuss politics here. But listening to our next president’s acceptance speech the other night brought to mind some past conversations with my kids.

A few years ago, when we studied the Civil War era, we read speeches and quotes by Lincoln. Oh, I thought then, to have a president who could speak with such wisdom and eloquence! It seemed like something from a bygone time. The kids and I talked about this.

Listening to Obama speak, I remembered our conversations. We’ve elected a president who can move people with his words. He may not be another Abraham Lincoln, but can you listen to him without being stirred? After his speech, as the newscasters yammered on, some talked about his gifts as an orator. They said that in a time of soundbites, he is “bringing back the spoken word”.

Can I tell you how much that excites me?

The history-making reasons for Obama’s election move my heart. But the fact that we’ll have a president who can speak with eloquence thrills my mind. I’m delighted that we’ve elected a president who seems so, well, presidential.

For fellow word-lovers, check out this short yet inspiring post on the power of words in this election.

thirteen

November 4, 2008 in celebrations and traditions | 8 comments

It’s Election Day: vote, vote, vote! (Not that you can vote three times. But it’s a day for emphasis.)

I’m still recuperating from last week. That last week of October always does me in. Two kids with birthdays, including one on Halloween. Oh, and there’s that Halloween thing too.

If you remember how sappy I got over my little guy turning seven, just imagine the emotions I could wring over my only daughter turning thirteen. But never fear, dear Reader, I will spare you the melodrama. Instead I offer a simple list:

Thirteen Things to Love About Lulu

She can take an image like this:

and whip up a costume like this:

2. Singing show tunes with her always makes for a good time.

3. Her eyes.

4. When she’s angry, her combination of high drama and those flashing big eyes brings to mind Bette Davis or Susan Sarandon. She may be maddening, but it’s always a good show.

5. How she dances everywhere. You should see her sashay to the refrigerator.

6. If it’s your birthday she’ll make cards and cakes, crowns and crepes. Or a stuffed pig. She knows how to take care of the people she loves.

7. She smiles when she reads.

8. She cries when she watches movies. Recently, Little Women did it. Which, of course, made me cry.

9. She knows how to throw a party. I wish you could have seen the dresses she and her friends created at her Project Runway party on Sunday.

10. The hug she gives without fail each morning.

11. Her accents. Just ask her what to do when your curry is too spicy and see what I mean.

12. She’s sentimental. She likes to look at her baby book with me on her birthday every year.

13. On the afternoon she was born, we got the best Halloween treat ever.

And those are just the first thirteen things I could think of. She’s quite a girl.

birthday gift

October 29, 2008 in celebrations and traditions, wondering | 4 comments

I know I said I’d write more about teaching school and homeschooling, but it’s birthday week around here, so that post will have to wait.

My little man turned seven yesterday.

Birthday bliss: a crown made by your sister, some new checkers and Ricky Ricotta books, and eating cheese and crackers from the birthday bunny plate with your feet on the table.

I always get sentimental on my kids’ birthdays, but especially with this guy. He’s my baby. We waited such a long time for him: six years after his sister, and almost ten after his brother. I remember crying on the phone to my mom, worrying that it was taking so long to get a third pregnancy to hold, worrying that a child born so long after his or her siblings would be lonely. My mom reassured me, told me that all of her friends who’d had “later” babies found those babies to be a particular joy.

And that’s what Mr. T has been. Chris and I loved the name we chose for him (and it didn’t hurt that it was also Dr. Seuss’ real name–which now seems especially apt for our little boy with the big imagination). But when we learned that it means “gift from God” we knew that if we had a boy, after waiting so long, this would be his name.

He’s always been a joy and a gift to the other four of us. He entertains us daily with his kooky personality and his laid-back look on life. My parents gave him a card last night that said, “Happy birthday to our weirdest grandchild”, which they meant in the most loving way, really. At his Willy Wonka birthday party the other day, he dressed like Willy–top hat, goggles and all–and insisted that we start the party with the welcome song from the newer movie–you know, the one that goes, “Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing chocolatier” about 360 times–so he could do a little welcome dance for each of his friends as they arrived. He’s that kind of a nut. Just the sort of kid who’d choose Willy Wonka as a hero.

It’s funny, parents always say that they grow up so fast. And I’ve felt that with the older two. But with Mr. T it’s been different. Slower. With the other two, I never knew what to expect next, so I think I’ve spent a lot of time looking forward, in both anticipation and worry. But having Mr. T so many years later, I had a pretty good idea what was coming next–and I knew things were bound to turn out okay. (Yes, he’d sleep through the night eventually, and he wouldn’t still be wearing diapers at ten.) So I haven’t spent much time looking forward with him; I know how fast it goes, and I’ve tried to savor every moment of his little boy-ness. Every street crossed holding his hand, every bedtime story read with his head in my lap, every smile with that mouthful of tiny baby teeth, already outgrown. (He just lost his first upper front tooth last week, and holding that tooth in my hand punctured my heart a bit. It felt like I was holding his smile.)

I’ve started reading The Seven-Year-Old Wonder Book to him at night, as I did when each of his siblings turned seven. And I’m grateful that it took so long for him to arrive, because while I now have (almost!) two teenagers skulking around the house, I also have a little boy to snuggle with, who wants to hear fairy stories, who still thinks a wonder book is a wonderous thing.

I’ll leave you with a few more of Mr. T’s wonderings from the Wonder Farm so you too can enjoy the mind of a nutty seven-year-old:

What if twins ran for president, which one would the parents vote for?
What does God do all day?
What if the dentist’s office was a swimming pool?
What if Barack Obama wanted Sarah Palin and John McCain wanted Joe Biden? Who would you vote for then? (To which I replied, “Hoo, Buddy, you’re making this tough on me!”)

celebrations and traditions

retreat

the week in between

projects, part two

if your kid loves wolverine

things to do at a lake

pondering mothering on mother’s day

the garden transformed

the easter garden

atwitter: december

happy christmas!

the elves have been busy

contender for best christmas cookie ever

season of light

the advent box

old friends

abundance

presidential

thirteen

birthday gift

a little background

ever-changing list of wondrous links

posts about writing with kids

a smattering of creative inspiration

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