one fine day

Thanks for your kind words about the last post. I kind of jinxed myself with it. We were all horrible and stressed the whole rest of that day. It was the little things that turned into big things, like who got to watch a movie, who was kept in the dark about it, who wanted ice cream, who felt like too many people were making demands and didn't deserve things if they were going to make such a big deal of it. Those kinds of days make you glad to get into bed early to try again tomorrow.

This day was a lovely, fine day of celebration with friends, however. And everyone was nice.

 baby strawberries

Some people have little daughters who are camera-magnets for me. (She takes the same two fingers as her sister does.) I love how you can see the smile starting in her eyes.

 the shadow of my big boy Jonas against that gorgeous knit blanket makes me swoon

And now for a gallery of feet pictures, with a side order of sweet dresses and skirts:

You know I fall for the tiny floppy-floppies every time. Perhaps I need a blog dedicated to hands and feet. If you can think of a good name that wouldn't attract the wrong sort of people, please do post it.

Delicious wood-fired pizza was served up by the nice folks at Harvest Moon. I fell off the dairy-less wagon and ate some and it was perfection in the mouth. Crispy crunchy melty savory bites of awesome. Then later came the unhappy side-effects: sneezy and stuffy.

 the tiny dancer stole our hearts

Thanks to our gracious hosts who asked that I bring my camera. There was a lot of wonderful happening all over the place.

hands, etc.

The new life feels crowded and often unbalanced. But there is still room for the occasional moment for a girl and the camera.

I still love hands, little and big. I still like a good apple fresh-picked from the tree. I still love the golden light of fall the best.

Hayrides and apple-picking. Hikes. Hanging the occasional load of laundry. Cooking yummy food on the weekends together.

I appreciate my good, dear, and patient family and miss them.

This is how I feel sometimes, turned upside down and clinging on:

Ringmaster in a Circus of Sloths

The title of this post is how I identify myself in the mornings: as in, I am the ringmaster trying to get the sloths to shake a leg, stay focused, get their stuff done, stop teasing, pick up their______, find their _______, brush their _______, and do it all before we leave at __:___. Sometimes I succeed at getting them out the door without yelling. Not very often.

new lovely plush toy, Ella,

made for me by a young seamstress.

~LOVE~

So being a systems girl, I like to try new things and tweak the existing system, particularly when it's a faulty one. Only reminding a person once. Throwing a boot. Leaving the house and sitting in the car (this only works when I don't have to be at work myself). Writing lists on a slate. Staying in bed and avoiding the whole business, my favorite option (this one works great, but only if Mr. Crafty is getting them out the door).

arugula and beet salad with red onions, pine nuts,

kicking vinaigrette=mind blowing eating experience

Also being a teaching type of girl, who is married to a teacher and the daughter of a teacher, I always assume that if they're not getting it, this is because of something I have or haven't done. Am I asking too much, too little? What's appropriate for the 12 year-old vs. the eight year-old, and can I stand the discussion about what is/isn't fair? (My favorite answer is always: "Of COURSE I wouldn't dream of treating you equally! That would be terribly unfair!!") How can I coach them to be successful in whatever we're trying to do? What can I do differently to engineer the outcome I want?

Finally, we've already established that the demands of the mornings are my least favorite part of the job we call motherhood. Cleaning up vomit is a close second, but thankfully it doesn't happen daily.

someone knows me well:

a birthday box full of the most delicious stationery

So now we come to a new system, on day 2. Knock on wood, no yelling either day. Each boy has a checklist: things to do appear up top, just under the departure time of the day (which changes based on whether Mr. or Mrs. is driving in).

"Think through your day and all parts of it. What will you need?" This question is followed by the items a boy might need for his day. I think it's an essential question because really, that's exactly what I ask myself when I am leaving the house for the day.

They seem to like checking the boxes off. Perhaps it's because they go to a Waldorf school.

The following two sentences, on the reverse side of the letterpress Thank You/Birthday set, seem to also relate to what we've been speaking of here:

~fusion~

Herod couldn't get near the place

The fusion of families, of people we love, of all my folks (4 in total) and his folks (they're still married to each other!), of friends who come and go unexpectedly as well as those who last, the fusion of a staunch traditionalist and his tradition-less wife, the fusion of food and many hands, and finally of plastic and Waldorf and technology and wood.

The fusion of cowboys, knights, Indians, the Queen's guard, and WWII soldiers.

The fusion of the Force (old and new movies) with the lovely Star Money candle tableau.

Does our philosophy about technology for children change now that it is infiltrating our lives a bit more, with certain 12 year-olds who now have certain devices, gifted by certain relatives? Nope.

How about plastic toys? Yes, we have them alongside our wooden ones, and they are frequently integrated by our children in their play. How else could you build a ramp for the 20+ year old matchbox cars that have survived the years of Demolition Derby, enacted in this very hallway? (Well, OK they're not plastic, are they, if they lasted this long; they are the good, old school metal variety.)

Many hands made light work of the Lego White House model.

So. Fusion. And compromise and integration and limits and boundaries. And flannel pajamas warmed up by the woodstove.

Big City Adventure

s. drives the amphibious vehicle in the Charles River

Sometimes we get out of the wilds and into the city. Things like escalators and public transit are as exciting as museums and zoos. And oh, do the boys ever love the sidewalks at their Grandpa's and Mimi's house---Scootering is possible! It's the little things.

We did touristy things like go on a Duck Tour with our extended family, and our clever driver was Disco Dan. We crawled through Boston's notorious traffic, feeling oh-so smug that we were the most massive thing on the road amongst all the tiny little SUVs, and heard about some of the city's history. And then we crawled into the river. I got a good shot of Disco Dan's amazing platform shoes: a little pretend goldfish is in there! Love it.
And we visited the zoo. Which I am more than a little ambivalent about, philosophically. But it was a gorgeous fall day and we decided to go for it. Of course certain members of our party particularly enjoyed it when the gorillas vomited into their hands and then ate it. I preferred the colorful birds and the tiny pygmy falcons who were eating their lunch of bits of raw meat.

The lion was pretty impressive, in his fully relaxed snooze position, letting it all hang out, so to speak.

It was really the perfect time of day for a nap and I think the Grandpa was jealous.

Oh and no visit with our extended family would be complete without a little ubiquitous computing on handheld devices. It's so fascinating that someone could be born digital, but even when deprived of daily contact with media devices, could still be more proficient with handheld devices than many of his elders. Without the distractions of media in his daily life we are raising a voracious reader, artist, thespian, problem-solver, strategist, collaborator, and most especially, a boy who at almost-twelve who still knows the value of play.