Today in my inbox I received a newsletter from Naomi Aldort:

"It is fine to find ways to nurture yourself away from your child. But, when not available, enjoy the ride. If you knew how close the end of this period is, maybe it would be easier to relax and enjoy each moment. Discover that time for yourself, is time with your child. Being with your child is the way your nurture yourself; it is a treat available for a fleeting moment; it is the gift you chose to give to yourself by bringing this child/ren into your life.

Being with the joys of mothering now is fulfilling. Fearing that you are missing something (or needing a clean house) is painful. When the children become independent, you will find that your interests have changed anyway, or that you can pick them up further than where you left them. These former skills may or may not be relevant to you any more. Life moves only forward. Attaching to the past hurts and separates us from the happy moment of now and now and now. Without the wish to do something else, you love the moment fully and peacefully. Enjoy it. Like the rest of life, it is a passing ride that gives no second chance."

Today I accidentally lived my life this way. I was out on the bike with the kids from 11:00 in the morning to 3:30 in the afternoon. We went to the bank then the market where we bought my mother* a bouquet of local sweat peas, a pie, our farm eggs. We had lunch in our favorite deli and went to my parents' to visit and do chores. We dug potatoes. We went to the store for supplies to make a birthday cake for my mother. We walked our garden. We bought her gift and had it wrapped. I was in parallel with my children. I waited on their schedule and timeline as I would a guest. I didn't snap or order around. Well, not as much as I usually do. They in response were agreeable, helpful, and took excellent care of our groceries and packages. Ralph was home almost before I knew it as our birthday cake was ready to be assembled.

The days I am very busy with my family and with my parents. Daily I visit them, cook for them, listen to my mom, and I talk a lot too. I sit in their living room. We go long stretches not saying much, then the conversation will liven up around something frivolous (the movie I saw last night), or something less so (this week my dad was classified hospice and has had oxygen, intense pain meds, and inhaler, a bed and wheelchair delivered). I mop the floors, do the dishes, wipe the counters. I listen as my children run around in the garden. Eventually we go and I say goodbye and tell them when we'll be coming back.

* It's her birthday! 59 years old.

Labels: family life, FOO, garden, Nels, Sophie

Our trip to Portland this last weekend proved a nice episode. I took my daughter, my car, and my bike. The idyllic roadtrip feeling did not last because my bike was a bit wobbly on the car and I ditched it at our favorite li'l hippie bakery for Ralph to pick up. Despite this sense of fail the rest of the trip went well. We arrived at perfect weather, I didn't overdo it on the activities list, I made it to a dear friend's bachelor party (or actually, I made it to one part of three of said celebrations), and most fun, I saw loads of my brother and sister and we walked most everywhere.

I felt oddly disconnected from my daughter most of the weekend. This was because I spent a lot of time with my siblings who are grownups, and I tend to wish to relate to them in grownup fashion. In fact when I'm around grownups I'm sometimes not "present" for my children which means I start to miss them. Many other adults are amazing with my kids and very sweet, but the only real grownups who don't pull me off my kid-compass are Ralph and, to a slightly lesser extent, my mother, both of whom somehow integrate with me and the kids, and that's a good thing, and I appreciate it (best sentence ever for far too many commas).

I missed Nels and Ralph so much. Coming home to them was the most calming feeling.

Labels: birlo, jules, pdx, roadtrip, Sophie

Today I dropped my daughter off at the last day of Vacation Bible School. Three years ago in one fell swoop I overcame my internal difficulties with sending my children to church functions; the decision was made easier by the fact my daughter especially loves, unreservedly, anything involving church. However I'd avoided this particular VBS installment - despite my appreciation for the free and, to my way of thinking, high-quality childcare experience - due to rumors of this church's recent decision that amount to politics (anti-gay) I personally disagree with. But yesterday a child who had spent the week in the day camp invited Sophie, and I decided to come off my principles a bit - principles which I'm also well aware had not been personally investigated with regards to this church.

At 9 AM my daughter is the picture of well-scrubbed simplicity, ponytail and dress and little tennis shoes and she asks me as far along as to seat her in the pew at which point the super-friendly, energectic grownups introduce themselves and I feel her little psyche pull its hand away from mine. I move to the back of the sanctuary for a moment. It's all smiles, people taking care of our children with the utmost care and perception of their interests and needs. Outside in our summer morning I see the playground across the street set up with games, balls, chairs, ropes. I step outside to head back home, glad for the Sophie's opportunity and mine.

I've been enjoying Nels so very much. Yesterday afternoon while Sophie went swimming with my mother, my son and I shelled peas from our garden together and just talked; mostly, about the things he wanted to (he has lots to say). Last night he set the table before ceremoniously laying out his own contribution to our dinner - clover, buttercups, and cherries from our tree. His knowledge of edible wild plants and flowers is merely a continuation of his gardening interest and abilities, which easily outstrip mine (Abbi would be proud of especially his foraging; she's a forager at heart as well). He gives me inspiration to keep growing, to keep learning.



Last night the boy and I shared a sundae at the deli and he repeatedly asked for "Barack Obama" ice cream; when pressed further, he grew more frustrated and said something that sounded like "Broccoli...". I finally realized he was trying to repeat Rocky Road, a recent addition to his food repertoire. We topped the ice cream with hot fudge and sprinkles - on his half only.

Labels: food, Nels, Sophie

It's 5:12 PM and I'm irritated. I'm irritated because it's taken us a bit longer than I'd thought to walk across the bridge. I'm irritated that despite the sign on the Public Market proclaiming hours until 6, they close down an hour earlier, and I can see the two cars pulling out and away and: I'm irritated because I was counting on some meager produce earnings from the Market to get me a bus pass because (Irritation #3) the kids and I ended up on an overly-ambitious walk (made so because of duration coupled with the amount of exercise we'd had previously this day and our lack of food and water and means to get them). Accepting our loss at least today of lettuce-money now I know that if I want to catch a bus home I have to grab the kids up and cross the street in front of blasting log trucks and wait in a chilly wind God knows how long before a bus comes along and at at that point I'll have to beg off on 15 cents I don't have to complete our bus fare (and the drivers around here might even say No - I'm serious). In this moment I notice the kids have found and are enjoying the very, very poor excuse for a playground that is alongside the Market and I know they won't like abandoning the "park" for this half-assed bus plan but neither should they have to walk all the way home and you know what? It's my decision, my responsibility, to figure out what to do.

I give into the moment and sit in the grass and let the children play. They don't know it, but it's a dismal day, the kind of grey soul-swallowing bleakness that gave Aberdeen such notoriety the Kurt Cobain set (many of them not raised here) often cite. Alongside the river and I'm walking and I know how to dig in my feet and survive, burrowing down into my jacket and being as patient with the kids as I can and hoping for a more promising tomorrow. After all, I have things to look forward to: friends coming over for dinner. The cough syrup nap at night (sadly, still necessary). A day closer to the weekend, where Ralph and I try to enjoy our time together.

This morning the first thing I did to try to make myself feel better than I had yesterday was bake a rhubarb cake and do the dishes. Housework is soothing; I'd enjoy it in perfect bliss if it weren't on a Rinse-Repeat cycle many times daily (ironically: it was having children that made me overcome my dislike of housework). We did have some excitement yesterday: the first hatchlings in our incubating chicken eggs. One died (in my hands - second bird in a month?), two have survived - we now have ten living entities in this house. I know cats and rats and chickens don't count for much by some yardsticks but feeding and cleaning up for them kind of does, especially along with my much more messy and complex (but it must be said, far more rewarding) human younglings. Our cat Harris is pleased with the chicks; he offers his nannying skills regularly although we repeatedly defer.

Tomorrow: city park free lunch program (at my son's request), a date with Jasmine, and Try #2 for gardening proceeds.

Labels: bus, garden, Nels, Sophie, walking

Sometimes your day is just kind of lame and difficult, and what's worse, you are forced to realize how limited you are as a person. And it's my personal theory that when you become a parent, if you're a parent who tries your best (as most probably do), this "limited as a person" thing hits you right in the nose far more often than feels comfortable.

I head out at noon with the following bike load: myself and two children, three coats, my purse, a huge batch of library books, and a birthday package for my brother. Downtown after meeting with my parents I've relieved myself of books and birthday package but have now picked up an antique globe (yeah, yeah, WTF?, I know!) and some trail mix. On to the bus to the grocery store in Aberdeen to pick up the following: asparagus, carrots, cucumber, half a cantelope, half a red cabbage, 1 pound tofu, one lime, 1/2 gallon organic milk, shampoo, conditioner, tea tree oil, 2 large boxes baking soda, and a large bar of olive oil soap. To the feed store for bulk catnip and chick feeders.

As I suspected, putting the Xtracycle on a bus meant that one of the Transit personnel got in a dither ("Oh, I don't know if that will work..." yes it will work, I've seen it work,), fussing around and generally getting in the way of me practicing lifting the (rather heavy) load up where it needed to be. The bike is extra long so in order to fit it on a bus I have to take off the front wheel and load it on the back in the pannier - I admit it looks a bit suspicious to the narrow-minded.

I love the glimpses of people, neighborhoods, life that bicycling affords. In Hoquiam and Aberdeen we have a lot of semi-dilapidated or sometimes merely "well-worn" houses where people are just concentrating on living. In the hot afternoon I see my neighbors out on their front porches smoking, or two little girls who've rigged one of those giant trampolines with a sprinkler. People smile and stare at my bike and the large children dangling off the back. A rough-cut man in multiple trenchcoats shouts out, "Nice socks!" (they're not socks but makeshift legwarmers out of sleeves of a sweater I got off Freecycle). We see lots of kitties and talk about the names of flowers in full bloom.


(Later in the day, legwarmers and coats left behind).


Ralph took the kids to Lake Quinault yesterday. I was sort of dis-invited, but it worked out well enough for me to have some time to myself in the house.

Labels: bike, Nels, roadtrip, Sophie, X

Last night all on her own my daughter penned and illustrated a story "The Family & The Eagle", which so charmed her father he quickly digitized it. Click the following links to:

[ read it on the computer ]

[ download in booklet form to print ]

It's a real page-turner!


Regarding the title plate: " <-- beak". Ha! ha! ha! ha!

Labels: Sophie, writing

We made it to the carnival tonight.

At first I was nervous Nels wouldn't really enjoy the rides. What do I worry for? He was just as relaxed and smiling as he is about 99.8% of the time. Going down the Fun House spiral slide for the second time, he goofed around, miscalculated, and tumbled over on his head. Ralph and I practically raced to pick him up and administer comfort. Our children are getting older, more independent, less clingy. They don't breastfeed or cry out for us to hold them near as often as they used to.

I already feel a small hole working its way outward in my chest: the vacancy of the loss of being so essentially needed so much of the day.

Labels: friends, Nels, Ralph, Sophie

I've been sick (bronchitis), but that's no excuse for not writing. Today is Sophie's last day of school - sort of. It's more like a half day composed of field games. If I was feeling better I'd be there, enjoying the bittersweetness of the event and working one of the activities. Yesterday minorly prophetically I said my goodbyes and brought flowers to my daughter's teachers on their last real full day of school. I didn't say goodbye to the children because they were all trickling out to recess. I've been now and then crying small batches of sweet, sad tears about it - how much I'd miss time in that classroom. It was convenient being ill I didn't have to face up to it yet one more time on the today.

Yesterday evening after dropping off some donations for the preschool garage sale Ralph told us the carnival was at the mall. You know - one of those traveling events with ridiculously priced poisonous food, all sorts of fun rides put together by junkies, and a ticket system that works out to an average of $4 each ride. I had misgivings about just "driving by" the carnival without having the children expressly informed in sober, repetitive detail that tomorrow we'd be going to the carnival: tonight was merely a look-see. However instead of voicing my concerns to my husband I brushed them aside and instead indulged myself in attempting to discuss my day's ideas and feelings with my adult male partner - something I crave and get so little of when our children are in tow.

I pull around the carnival lot and yes, it is mighty and huge. The kids grow excited. We tell them we're "just checking it out". They ask if we can participate tonight, now. We say no, Daddy didn't bring his wallet, and anyway we're going tomorrow. Their anxiety becomes palpable, their pleas increasingly frantic. I try the firm but casually friendly "no". It doesn't go over as friendly or casual. They have wound themselves up: I couldn't have predicted the intensity of their reaction. They throw their heads back and howl. Instantly their faces are streaked, sunburned, disbelieving, tortured. I can hear the tears flying in huge arcs out of their squeezed-shut eyes and raining on the car upholstery.

Ralph and I are laughing in front - hiding our laughter, because we don't want to be cruel. It's just - you can't imagine how much fuss they are making! And for the two of them to both set up wails of protest makes the noise and drama of the event truly impressive (usually it's one or the other: Nels more unflappable, Sophie much more likely to set up a "fussdown" as she calls it). It turns out - as Ralph tells me later - the drive-by was just about the worse idea we've had (he had, I was merely an accessory). Of course I know the kids are going to be fine but I simultaneously am remembering how horrid these sorts of feelings were as a child. Powerless, the glittering brass ring vanishing before my eyes, the adults able to grant me my one desperate wish refusing out of sadism or caprice. Unfair, tragic, horrible.

On the drive home Sophie spits out dire statements ("I'll never get to go to a carnival again! It will never be OK!") while Nels alternates between firm and emphatic commands ("Mom, Dad - take us to the carnival now, please!") to declarations of punitive action ("OK - no treats for Mama or Daddy - no maclairs for you!"*) and then back again. I feel clumsy, bad as a parent. Best to let those moments just slip through as quickly as possible.

At 11:45 this morning my children and husband return from the school event; Nels sporting rather unusual glittery pink and striped makeup. "I'm a princess and a tiger," he tells me.

* By "maclairs" being my son's pronunciation for our favorite breakfast pastries, eclairs.

Ralph and the kids return from

Labels: Nels, school, Sophie, sorrows

Nels slept in today and woke up under a blanket in between my parents on the living room couch while we enjoyed a morning coffee date. My son's temperament was sweet made all the more hapless since he has his last day of preschool today and was sporting a black eye, cutting a rather pathetic figure.

Chores today: cleaning rat cage, dishes, making beds, cleaning bathroom, starting two loaves of sourdough for tomorrow's Stone Soup cooking at Suse's kindergarten. At lunchtime on a whim I felt hungry for sushi. Easily accomplished: I made up the rice and while it was cooling blanched carrot matchsticks, cut cucumber, battered and lightly fried tofu, and toasted and crushed macadamian nuts. Of course this all makes several rolls so I assembled a bento each for my friend Shannon and my mother.

At 3 PM while Nels was at school I picked Sophie up early so we could go to a Smithsonian traveling exhibit hosted at our own Polson Museum. The volunteer was thrilled to see museum attendance double - well, more than double as when we entered the museum went from 0 visitors to 2. It was a great exhibit and a lot of fun to attend with my daughter. She listened politely to the volunteer, asked questions, read the exhibits, and seemed to enjoy most of all racing around the model train set.

Labels: food, friends, geekery, Sophie

Today while Ralph and I were making up labels on a little home-brewed project of mine (see below) I spied our kitty Harris outside with a bird in his mouth. This is the second one in three days. The bird from Friday was quite dead, and perhaps not even by his hand (or paw, such as it is). This one was still alive. Ralph ran outside and retrieved the cat and went inside the house to look for the phone number of a rehabilitation group. I picked up the bird. The children ran outside and crowded around me. Our neighbor's daughter called over the fence, asking for updates which my kids gave. I couldn't hear them because I was rather distressed.

The bird went through agonies in my hand, arching back it's head and opening it's beak as if gasping. It's gasps began to have sound. Then it died in my palm. I laid it down and it changed very profoundly from something fighting to live into something dead. Something left it's body so obviously as if it was an entirely different thing altogether. I cried. I don't care if you think that's silly. You weren't there.

Sophie cried a little out of shock and then went inside to tell Ralph. She came back outside and the children took turns holding the bird and talking about what happened. They weren't upset. Ralph dug a hole in the yard and we placed the bird, a few worms, and a flower inside the hole.

Life went on. For us.


My mother asked me to make something nice up for a few friends.

Labels: death, Harris, Nels, Sophie

Last night my children and I were lying on the full size bed in their room and they begged me to tell them a story - something that really happened to me. I was lying looking up at Sophie's bunk bed so I remembered one: "One time in the bus, we were driving somewhere. Billy and I were on the top bunk bed. There were three bunk beds: Grandma and Grandpa's, mine, then Billy's. We were in the top one. Billy fell off and hit his head. He split the skin of his head open and we had to drive to a hospital and get him stitches."

They liked that story and talked about it a bit (Nels has had stitches, too). They asked for another story. I was still thinking about my brother so I told them: "One time when we were pretty young we were up at the Mason Lake cabin. Billy and I were in the water. I caught a snake that was swimming, and I gave it to him, and it bit him."

Sophie said, "Why does all the bad luck happen to Uncle Billy?"

Nels said, "Tell us another story."

Now I was on a roll. "One time when we lived in California we were having a picnic with family,"* I told them, "and Billy was about to take a bite of a chip. And just as he put it to his mouth a grasshopper jumped on the chip and Billy bit the bug in half."

Nels asks solemnly, "Was the grasshopper white, or green, or pink?"

Sophie says, with authority, "It was green." And I think she was right.

* I neglected to mention to my children that all the grownups were stoned or sloppy or both.

Labels: birlo, Nels, Sophie

Today I spent most the day on my bike and on the beach. I know this sounds nice and all, but it was very hot for me (HQX reached 93 and considering last week we still had winter chill I guess I just wasn't ready). On top of this the bike trip with my mom was harder than I'd thought it would be. In my tube-top dress and bright red face under a bike helmet I wasn't exactly getting wolf whistles, in fact I'm sure I made a few lads puke in their mouth a little bit.

Our beach trip was lovely. Friends Mikey and John picked Sophie and I up at 3:30 and we hit two separate beaches toting water and sunscreen as backup in the van. On the shore John repeatedly braved the waves while I watched my daughter over and over running into and out of the surf. After dinner and ice cream we journied home and hit the barely-cool house just prior to 9 PM. Quite a day for both Sophie and I and I count it up to my Good Mommy my daughter's skin remained entirely free from sunburn.

Labels: beach, friends, HQX, roadtrip, Sophie, weather

It's noon and the van is packed, the kids have enough water (it's a hot day), and swaddled in my basket is a lunch of cheese on multigrain bread, roasted garbanzo beans (Nels calls them "grabanzo" beans), and carrot sticks in ice water. This morning I spent $7.34 for the food I brought my daughter's class (a weekly ritual), have exactly $21 for the tank of gas to the city and back( the trip will take every penny), and retain $2 to buy myself a coffee (with tip) on the road.

I'm tired of driving to Olympia and back. This is the third time in about a month for the kids' dentistry. After today, though, we will be done with sealants and fillings and the next trip won't be until their October checkups. If I had a few bucks to buy some lunch or visit Danger Room Comics or a fabric store I'd have looked forward to this trip. Or even better, if I had someone along with me to chat. As it is I am instantly thrilled to my bones with horrific boredom at the little stretch of highway I have to traverse. I've never enjoyed repetitive car trips and incline my head with respect to those who don't mind.

My daughter does well at the dentist's and doesn't even vomit later due to the nitrous gas administration (like she did last time). Driving back I'm impressed with my children; they are champs, not whining, not begging for McDonald's or ice cream or telling me they're bored. I have one earbud in (my iPod converter does not work) and the kids cope without DVD player or strenuous kiddie-music song recitation or even books, looking out the window and lost in their own thoughts. When we get home I give them something cold to drink and hug them and tell them I'm proud of them.

Labels: coffee, doldrums, Nels, roadtrip, Sophie

This morning at nine AM we dropped Sophie off at the countywide Young Authors Conference. On her shirt she sported a name tag and group designation, in her hand she clutched the book we finished today, "A Lost Mermaid." You know your child is happy and proud of their work when, looking it over, they are smiling with their mouth open.

Sophie and I worked together to write her stories, and "Mermaid" was the one she chose to commit to binding and illustrating. But this one was my personal favorite:

Some lions just hide in bushes until the zebras come close. Then the lions jump out and eat the zebras' meat.

Sometimes lions dress up as sebras and they play wiht them... then they take their makeup off and attack the zebras.

Some lions fly planes in close to catch the zebras.

Labels: books, Sophie

Last night we attended my daughter's kindergarten concert at the HQX high school's theater. It was glum and cold-ish at 6 PM when we biked up and then down a huge, steep awful hill to get there. I had to walk the bike both up and down - the "down" was at such an incline I didn't feel I could safely mount the bike and have Sophie do the same. And in my tippy Danskos at that with middle school students gawking. I don't think so.

The school concert was like being slammed into my own childhood, only I was a Mommy now. It was a familiar experience in some ways but alien in others. Parents, grandparents, siblings, friends, teenagers on chaperoned pseudo-dates filled the seats to overflowing. When the kindergarteners filed onstage parents a sweetness filled the room as parents began rising out of their seats to joyfully signal their own children (whom they'd just dropped off minutes before in the band room). With the hum in the air the rising and falling of parents in their seats reminded me of butterflies lifting and falling out of a swaying meadow. My daughter was in the first group out and the only child to, as she walked, turn and throw her head up to wave with confidence; they were all there to see her.

My son sat in rapt silence, bundled in his coat with his hair falling in his eyes, his gaze fixed on his sister and her big moment. Ralph got there late and snuck out after her performance to meet a friend. And a mere forty five minutes after we took our seats I was biking the kids home in the wet spring evening. We made pizza together in the kitchen and I hung Sophie's dress back up in her closet. Finis.

Labels: bike, family life, HQX, music, Sophie, weather

This weekend was a busy one - coming off a dinner party (of sorts) on Thursday we took in the school carnival at Lincoln elementary, the bridge opening celebration at the HQX Farmer's Market, the Shorebird Festival, and a private rollerskating birthday party (where I discovered I could still skate reasonably well). All traveled to by foot or by bike and on a shoestring grocery budget. Ralph also worked most of Saturday in the yard mowing, weed-eating, and finishing our "greenhouse" (which Nels calls a "pinkhouse" for absolutely no reason - the truth is it's kind of this DIY recycled materials shanty). I joined him to hang laundry and put out the starts I'd been working up: lettuces, cucumbers, peas, bush beans, cilantro, sunflowers, love in a mist, snapdragons, amaranth, sweet peas, and calendula. Now if only the cats would stop using our lovely large bed as a lovely large litterbox. In fact today I had a very, very sad cat crap experience I won't elaborate on. Yeah, it was really, really bad. Just know this and be glad it didn't happen to you. P.S. I'll be telling Billy every detail.

Yesterday's daytime activities were a very sweet affair: the kids and I played "homeschool" in part inspired by the old-fashioned child's desk we found at the Public Market's associated garage sale (where I also made a new friend, an RN who works up on the Quinault Reservation). The children loved the school play - and I mean loved it. Sophie would call Harris "the school cat" with the most pleased expression of eye and tooth. During the subject of "bath time" I made up report cards in categories Science & Discovery, Art & Creative Play, Exercise & Pet Care, Food Preparation, Personal Hygiene & Clean Up, and Conduct. I wrote things like, "Very good at washing dishes," and "B- : forgot to flush toilet" and, "Was the catcher during 'Parachute Toy Science Experiment'." Smart Mommy and Daddy readers will immediately see this enabled me to also get the entire house clean with their help. Maybe I'll graduate up to Coffee Making and Foot Rubbing extra credit projects.

Tomorrow finds me back to the "normal" school routine and I already miss our weekend together. We had a lot of sunny, easy hours together.

Labels: garden, homesteading, HQX, Nels, school, Sophie

Four years ago today despite the onset of faint contractions I'd taken a lovely, deep nap in the sunlight of my living room, waking as peacefully as I ever had. Deep in my bones this brief sleep felt like a ritual, a final act as mother to one child - before embarking on the New Adventure. I've heard it said any time you add a child to the family it's as momentous as the first child's addition. I knew this to be true that afternoon and time has not proven me wrong.

The family we dined with the afternoon I went into labor with Nels just left this morning - my friend Abbi and her two daughters who decided impulsively to take a trip and ended up staying three days and two nights (yay!). We spent a very active and rather foodie weekend cooking, playing, visiting the sights (including the farmer's market, our fruit and veggie stand, the carniceria, our Salvadorian restaurant, and a local creamery), swimming, recovering (by napping - which saved my body and mind), cooking some more (raw milk cheese! strawberry rhubarb pie! roasted jalapenos!), and sharing gardening hopes, seeds, and starts (the Hogaclan being by far the primary beneficiary on the starts).



About thirty minutes after our guests leave we find ourselves at my parents', serving up the pie I'd made the night before. My daughter suddenly exclaims in proud surprise, "I lost my tooth!" and reveals to us a bloody gap. A small flurry of excitement; my mother and grandfather in tears as they say to one another, "I wish Jean [my grandmother] were here." Sophie's sweet voice develops a slight lisp; now in talking her full upper lip catches a bit on the void her upper tooth left behind. She tells me later with cool confidence, "It fell into my sleeve."

This evening I knead the dough for treat I'm bringing Nels' class tomorrow (his birthday as well as his last day before moving up to the older class which he repeatedly points out, "Is full of new girls!") while he sits at the table, licking the mixer paddles. I am tired but breadmaking is one of my favorite things to do. "This dough is so nice..." I tell my husband, pleased at the soft, springy, smoothness that warm milk, egg, and butter affords (this particular confection contains chocolate and brown sugar, too!) and Nels adds, "Uh-huh!" enthusiastically, busy wiping his fingers and nodding. I lean in and kiss him for being who he is, my golden child who shares my love of cooking (ingredients he's chosen for us over the last week: cauliflower, cantelope, and a special red sea salt) and is forever coming up with the most imaginative games (tonight he was a pie bird and required I pantomime the preparation of a pie using his body).

The rest of the family enjoys the fireside and the warmth, contentment at the end of our Spring Break.

Labels: babies, birthday, food, friends, milestones, Nels, Sophie

Today we sojourned over 11 miles* on the new bike - loading up on groceries all the way. A dozen farm eggs at the Farmer's Market; cotton balls, q-tips, two packages elastic, 2 1/2 yards fabric, ribbon,** nail polish remover, 2 packs baking soda, 1 gallon milk (for cheese) at Walmart; chives, minneola oranges, cherry tomatoes, english cucumber at Jay's; 2 packages soba, rose buds, misting bottle, pistachios, black pepper, four muslin bags at the Market Place; a stop for brown bag lunch and coffee at the Coffee Bean Cafe with purchase of a pound of their Costa Rican coffee beans; 1 yard interfacting at Quilt Harbor; edamame, butter, Nancy's honey yogurt, canola oil, rennet, tweezers at Swansons.

At Swansons, our last stop, I finally admit to myself I'm kind of a weirdo when with my children off our Bag Lady Bike I find myself asking for vegetarian rennet for tomorrow's cheesemaking adventure. "Whut's that?" the meat department gal squints at me disbelievingly. "I've never heard of it." Guess what, they had it - or a close enough approximation anyway.

Turns out a day on the bike running errands is so very, very much more fun than doing them in a car. Part of it is the ebb and flow of companionship with my children; they help unload the panniers, hold the bike for one another, and pass out helmets to all. Sophie straps Nels' feet into his footholds, even when they come loose and I pull over and she has to hop off to do so. I have a feeling their enthusiasm won't wane; part of this is they know they are responsible for a great deal of what goes into riding the bike (for instance, they have to hang on, they have to decide how much clothing to wear, they tell me where to go, and - best of all! their little left arms stick out from the side of the bike to signal my turn intentions!). I did ditch Sophie off the back twice though, and I think a few motorists probably thought I was a colossal asshole. I told myself I was still learning.

Today's last ride was taken in companionable silence a few minutes ago in a very, very cold night chill, as Sophie and I returned from my parents' house after dinner. We were in the door at 9:56 PM.

And by the way, despite all the groceries loaded up under her legs Sophie didn't so much as scratch a single egg.

* Please note - there is actually a detour in effect that renders the west-side HQX part of this map incorrect; Google Maps wouldn't let me go the wrong way down a one-way street.

** These last two items are for tomorrow's sewing / art project w/kids.

Labels: bike, roadtrip, Sophie

3/28/08 2:15 PM: date and time that my precious, precious X joined the family. I feel superstitious and odd about it though because, A. it isn't fully paid off (but will be soon!); B. heck, even when it's paid off it was a lot of money!; C. I haven't put it on the front of the bus yet (have to try that out at the bus barn and hopefully while it's not snowing); and D. I'm still getting used to the very different handling of this new vehicle.

Sophie was still at school when I loaded Nels up and went off on the inaugural run to get groceries. It was literally hailing, I was in the lowest gear (I didn't realize this at first) and wobbling, and I could hear Terry (Bike Shop Guy) behind me making nervous, doubtful sounds as I rounded the corner. Once I sorted the gears things went better. The bike felt long and strange - even though I'm used to a much longer tail (vis-a-vis trailer - but obviously there is a "bend" in the trailer set-up). Nels up behind me instead of on two wheels on the ground felt odd but he seemed to really enjoy it. We hit Swansons and I kind of wondered around the place getting groceries, still excited about the bike (we bought Ralph some Jones Soda and the rest of tonight's repast).

From there we headed home, briefly warmed up inside and went off to get Sophie. The hail had subsided but the wind and cold were fierce. Adding another kid to the bike felt very wobbly and odd but the little monkey mounted, dismounted, and held on perfectly. The little kiddos will need gloves for sure as the elements were very, very rough.

This morning Nels took a tomato start to his teacher (actually his substitute teacher who was filling in during maternity leave; today was her last day) and I sent two to a couple AmeriCorp students Ralph knows at GHC.

The weather may not have tuned into this fact - but Spring is indeed here!

Labels: bike, garden, Nels, newness, rain, school, Sophie, weather, X

Today I felt defeated by the end of the day. Really, I'd had successes and I'd had good times but somehow around 4:30 I deflated with a big, listless pfffffthbh.

Maybe it was that I'd left my bike guy with the go-ahead to drill holes and install a piece of wood to part of my new bike work. I dunno, that took the starch out of me a bit; but it had to be done.


The Bike Shop has some excellent systems for running smoothly. Here's the thing, it's so incredibly cluttered and crazy yet Terry will never lose even your tiniest set screw (although it might take him a minute to find it).


Sophie makes do in the Lariat while we wait for our keys to be re-delivered to us. It has been so very, very cold - alternating between sunny, sleet, rain and wind.

Highlights of the day:

Cleaning up my sewing room (yay!) but even more meaningful, once again moving my tomato starts to an even sunnier spot and making a hallowed little place for them (tonight my mom asked if I'd named each one). I think growing green things might keep me cheerful this spring.

Driving next to Nels and listening to our latest download (Alicia Keys' "As I Am") while he puts his arms around me and sings to me.

Getting a coupon for free bread at the Franz outlet - what a creepy yet almost wondrous place that is! Nels got a "Cookie Credit Card", an ingenious marketing ploy to inspire children to pester overworked parents to stop in for mass-produced refined grains.

Making dinner, despite being so tired I didn't want to.

Having dinner with the kids; simple fare (homemade pizza dough with layered cheese; roasted brussel sprouts, sauteed tomatoes and squash) but so nice to see their joy in eating and pouring their own beverages from their little pitcher of water.

My husband trying to take care of me. He doesn't always know how much I appreciate this.

Labels: bike, food, gratitude, Mama's crazy, Nels, Ralph, Sophie, sorrows, weather

My daughter's kindergarten homework gives evidence of something I used to do myself: intellectually twiddle my thumbs by embellishing schoolwork easily mastered. Examples: having filled out a grid with numbers one through one hundred, Sophie will go back and embellish each void space within the numerals 6, 8, 9 and 0; she will write notes in the margins or put flourishes in her name. Even on an occasion last week she corrected an error in the homework itself. Volunteering in her classroom I have not seen any other child do this to the extent she does.

However her intellectual prowess, such as it is, does not manifest in boredom or ennui in a way that is easily detected or even harmful. In fact she is cheerful enough to go to school and fine sitting on the carpet being not-challenged by the academic exercises. She enjoys her social time and navigates confidently. She has learned bullying behaviors and how to be an Alpha Female; that is, rude to some of her other classmates although quick to say "sorry" and respect her teacher's authority. She seems to like all subjects. Last Friday while getting ready she said, "I have P.E. today," then paused... "so I need some sweats." As if kindergarten physical education needs to be geared for.

Still, today I notice that her abbreviated day at school (8:30 to 11:15 AM, cut short for conferences) seems to result in her being less keyed-up and more receptive to the remainder of the day's activities: visiting the bike shop (a new kickstand and - ding! ding! ding! - my xtracycle parts are in!), having lunch in a cafe with my mom and a friend, stopping at the library, and finally, returning home to start our dinner with Nels and I (he is always willing and able to be a great help in the kitchen). This latter exercise was the most fun for me. All three of us took our knives to trimming green beans and carrots and did the dishes together afterwards. That done we retired to my bed to each of us to read silently for a while which in turn made me too sleepy to do much of anything else until Ralph returned home and I biked the four or so miles to this evening's preschool Board meeting.

It's only spring, and the beginning of spring at that, but already I long for the long days of summer with my children in my house and out of doors.

Labels: books, food, Nels, school, Sophie

This weekend found us at my family's cabin* up near Shelton:


It was beautiful, cold and clear at Mason Lake (note: "Little Hoquiam" where my great-grandfather settled with friends!) for all three days.


My knitting + rustic decor. I also sewed Suse a pair of pants with a cute, but horrible-to-work-with, polyester woven I bought years ago.


A state of such permanency the label my grandmother made lives on and on. There's also a box marked, "Whiskers Nails & Armpits" (for razors, fingernail clippers, and deodorant, natch).


"Let's go to town, kids!" On Sunday we hit Olympia in part to take Ralph's guitar to Music 6000 for an expert opinion. At the Blue Heron Bakery we had a picnic of our own home-made sandwiches followed by cookies, coffee and tea from the shop. Let me tell you something: in my entire coffee-drinking career I have never taken a coffee back for being too bitter, but I had to in the case of the Heron's americano. I asked the barista if there was a mistake or ...? After coyly pouring a bit into his own wee cup the be-mustached, fey young man replied, "Yeah, that's pretty much what our espresso tastes like." Feeling like a puss, I switched out for a drip coffee which smelled faintly like hippie feet (I am not kidding nor exaggerating) but tasted fine enough. The cookies were great and the Garlic Kalamata Sourdough loaf was divine.


Sadly, during our lunch someone joked about eating the "top cookie" (that is, the cookie in the top of a package of five identical cookies) and the teasing was taken quite seriously by my son before we could convince him that yes, the "top cookie" was reserved for him.

As for the sweater: this is the least feminine thing Nels wears these days. His sister's a good sport, sharing her clothes with him.

Last weekend, my school friend Jodi visited along with her husband Doug and their children Cyan and India:


Sophie sat in the stroller and chronicled our gray stroll - down the highway and to a greasy spoon for soft-serve ice cream. Nothing but the best for our treasured guests!


Did I mention we in Hoquiam are sinking into the earth? Now I know why, growing up, people who met me out in the world would ask if I had webbed feet.


This was actually quite brilliant: the four children found a Connect Four game at the local coffee shop / popcorn factory and immediately began playing the game differently than intended. Without any noticeable communication (although children this age together can develop a monkey-language of their own) they'd fill up the board with alternating colors for each vertical row. Sophie, Cyan and Nels instinctively worked together at a high rate of speed while India (the youngest at 2) just did what the hell she wanted and the older children would either firmly grasp and re-direct her paw or, if she succeeded in dropping a color out of sequence, quickly retrieve the offending gamepiece and secure it. After a while the chore of catch-India-before-she-fucks-it-up got old and Cyan and Sophie started broadly hinting that maybe "someone" shouldn't play anymore.

* Built by my great-grandfather back in the day; shared by hordes of extended family now.

Labels: coffee, food, friends, knitting, Nels, Sophie, vacation, weather

Yesterday, annoyed that taking rest the week before had not resulted in a complete recovery, I simply didn't rest. And perhaps in karmic bodily retribution, last night I had the worst case of stuffed-up head I'd ever had. I felt like I'd been hit in the face with a big, blunt object - without the pain, but with all the swollen pressure. A shot-glass of the blue-green heavy duty called Nyquil provided means to sleep through the congestion. Waking up after mouth-breathing all night: priceless.

Today about thirty minutes before school's close I get a call that my daughter is sick; her ear hurts. She'd mentioned this in the morning but had not felt hot nor looked feverish so I'd sent her off. I help Nels into layer upon layer and we go pick up his sister. Home again I begin an afternoon meal of soup (garlic sauteed in coconut oil, broth, pasta, cayenne, lemon, egg), salted cucumber, and sliced blood oranges while my daughter falls asleep in front of the fire, an exhausted pile of empty-looking clothes.

Ralph too is sick but did not stay home from his day trip to Olympia. Only Nels and Harris remain cheerful and virile, my son quickly scuttling under the kitchen table when I catch him, barechested and eating directly from the sugar tin. I place a small table for him in my bedroom so we can watch a movie with monsters together and wait for the man of the house to return.

Labels: food, illness, Ralph, roadtrip, school, Sophie

I have to admit, there was no real reason for me to hang out for the Group Circle time at my daughter's class (which started two hours late today for snow delay) except I had missed seeing those children (I skipped last Thursday's classtime due to illness). Today when it was their turn to talk both Sophie and Nels separately shared about Sophie's new bed. Tom especially always says hi to me, and seems to relish saying "Mrs. Hogaboom". I think all the children like me. It's not that I'm all that likable and not only due to the fact I feed them something each week; it's because children are easy to please when you take time to pay attention to them.

Before I left Sophie took the teacher's chair and read a book of her own premeditated selection (Theo and the Blue Note, a great story) to her class. She did a great job. I was fighting back tears. Not because of the "accomplishment" of her reading but because it struck me how fast our children attain skills and kindnesses when it seems only yesterday you felt confused how to help them find them.

But today went sideways in a couple ways. For one, I was up at 4 AM today with a head packed full of cold again. By 7:40 AM I already felt weary and dejected, and my day was just starting. Then it bellied up and got cold and snowed, preventing a bike ride this morning. And later, after running grocery errands with my mom and Nels, it happened again. This time was funnier because my mother was unsure of the 8 oz. cup capacity (adequate for the 3 year old's bladder) and because I "made" her take the still-warm pisscup into the house to throw away. For some reason she did it, too, with that expression on her face like a cat makes when it smells something rank.

Here's hoping - hoping! - for a restful afternoon.

Labels: books, Grazdma, grocery opus, Nels, Sophie

When I get inspired it's a glorious thing. I'm liable to tear a whole room apart, clean, and reassemble. Or run off to a craft store and purchase a handful of 55 cent vellum sheets for homemade cards; rummage through the hardware store spending way too much time on something silly and mundane; change needles on my machine, surf Etsy or Flickr and think of what I want to sew or draw or write on. I got extra screw-off time this morning as Ralph took the kids swimming and then to freinds' for lunch.

My father came over at two PM - barely able to get through a work session after his Thursday chemo - to help Ralph build Sophie's loft bed. Before they start my husband asks, "So any changes to the plans?" and my dad replies, "No... I mean not unless you've changed something." To which Ralph says, "Look, I just want to know we can work in [awkward] silence the whole time." They vanish into the next room with drill and two by fours and saws and (I hope) a level.

After my father leaves in the early evening - very sick, in fact - the family reconvenes. Sophie so loves the promise of the new bed that she perches up there - on the unpainted plywood plank - with a few books to read, bright with happiness. Nels scuttles off post-dinner and Ralph and I finish out our conversation about our current activities. I wander into the living room while sipping coffee and rice milk and my eye wanders into the dark bathroom where Nels sits, perched on the toilet, shirt lifted to show his newly-fed frog belly as he takes care of toilet business. "It's me," he grins at me when I turn his way. The little hobgoblin.

Tonight: endless zine work, proofreading. Homemade Valentine's Day cards. Loud music and the sounds of kids splashing in the bath. Everyone stays up late and we watch MST3K together. Family life really works for me, sometimes.

Labels: film, homesteading, Nels, Ralph, Sophie, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard, zine

Today dawned hopeful, cold and clear - and plopped down on stuffy, whored-out and pissy. I am having a terribly discouraging time with aspects of Nels' preschool environment. I am having a lot of difficultly lately interacting with my son and expecting respect while getting along (when did he turn into a messy-headed wolf cub?). I am having an annoying time with the local printery. But mostly, I'm having the worst time overcoming my residual head cold and my poor attitude.

So, it's time for a little gratitude. Here are some great things that have come out of the last few days:

• Helping my children learn more chores (they are surprisingly adroit!)
• Explaining money-saving to them both (Nels' goal: a squeaky duck; Sophie's, winter boots)
• Explaining "flashing" to them both (thank you, John Waters cameo!)
• Sophie's term for a productive cough: "hork ball"
• Nels' kisses and cuddles (when he's not directly defying me at every turn)
• New sewing patterns in the mail - Victorian garments (ooh, practical!)
• New laser printer (zine approaches self-sufficiency)
• Ralph's support (very well-rendered this week)
• Friends either helping or offering to help
  
• Ladies' Night at deli tonight
• Brown sugar ham sandwich. 'Nuff said.

I feel a lot better typing that out.

In other news: Sophie is getting a new loft bed in her room now shared with Nels (P.S. I like sewing or the possibility of sewing more than a potential for my own children's coddled existence!). I was recently re-reminded of why we are glad to live our lives more simply (and no, I'm not referring to our phone and DSL services' disconnection for non-payment, which has now been remedied). We're considering going to one car although I will have to draft up my last will and testament now that I'm biking in Grays Harbor. Harris and Blackie have to go to the vet under false premises to have things cut off them (nuts, cancerous growth resp.). My brother never writes nor calls from Portland, the ass. And we are actually very sad here at Casa Del Hogaboom over Heath Ledger's recent demise (rare pop-culture reference, here).

Labels: film, i'm a hater, illness, Nels, Ralph, Sophie, writing, zine

Not everyone has pieced together that I actually do work outside the home. Every Monday I volunteer in my daughter's classroom assisting, usually, with an art project and letter and number exercises. Thursdays I return and bring a snack and (sometimes) a little extra lesson to go along with the snack. Sophie's teacher Mrs. P. is awesome at directing me in a way that corresponds to what they're working on during the week (this week is the well-loved tale The Mitten as illustrated by Jan Brett). About every other Friday I have a shift at Nels' preschool. I'm the secretary on the Board of that preschool which involves a sometimes crippling amount of small but very detail-intensive - well, not exactly busywork, but administrative work. You know, the kind of thing a lot of people don't do until they're older and realize a lot of quality institutions need volunteer work exactly of this caliber. The kind of work you get little thanks for - except from the others working alongside you. And lastly, the whole family is involved in various aspects of running the program at the 7th Street Theatre which isn't as scheduled but is definitely detail-oriented.

My favorite job has to be Sophie's school, so far. I feel it is such a privilege to be able to participate as much as I do in her education and that of her peers. And I have put enough time in to her classroom that I not only feel I know a lot (but certainly not all!) of what goes on during her day, I also know her teachers, her friends, and her world. I never thought of myself as good with kids but my time in her school has made me a kid person, because I see the value in hanging out with children more and more. Each child, to a soul, is treasured by me. Each child is different. Every experience with each child fits them in their own unique way that leaves me storytelling to most anyone who will listen - my parents and husband, usually. The kids make me laugh and surprise me, every day I work with them. I would take any of them home in a minute. I mean, don't worry mom and dad, I don't mean it literally. I mean, "your children have touched me in a very special place and I'm pretty sure I've touched them"... OK, I'll stop there.

Today involved a sewing exercise - students cut out two mitten-shaped construction paper patterns, then we adults helped them punch holes in the perimeter of the mitten and directed them to a running stitch to bind the two pieces. Let me tell you, it restored my faith in my favorite craft of sewing. Every child to an instance enjoyed the process. The boys and girls were of equal ability and interest. Each child was proud of his or her finished work in a way that many previous paper-and-glue projects have not quite spawned.

Even more fun for me was the fact that two of the children who typically struggle with the academic and social learning aspects of kindergarten really excelled at the sewing. One has a speech impediment of sorts that over time I've improved in understanding. The other spends a lot of time in the "watching chair" (time out). Both of these children completed their mittens quickly. One of them was the only child able to course-correct after doing a whip-stitch error. I just loved in my heart to see them do well at something they enjoyed. Because not only do these students get the consideration / stigma of "special ed" kind of help, I get the feeling they are often treated with that "don't expect much" attitude by some of the adults in their lives. It would be tactless of me to say a lot more about the situation, so I won't. Today I was happy to report to Mrs. P. how well each did and how interested they were in the process. I felt proud of them, although they aren't mine and I only get to borrow time with them every now and then.

On my way out of the classroom I stopped into the library to get Sophie's new reading book for study. We reward her with a new comic book each time she gets a 100% test (she is currently joyfully swimming in the Boneville series). It isn't just the comic book reward that keeps her interested in reading; today when I handed her the new book in the car her brows furrowed and she read aloud, perfectly, to her brother. They both simply love to learn and love the world around them. They truly deliver energy and inspiration to the depths of me.

And Nels... "I like your sheets."

Labels: books, gratitude, school, sewing, Sophie

Today I sustained my first new bike injury. While attempting to strap a cardboard box on my rack (taking a moment to giggle immaturely) the bungee I was using, too short, snapped back and whacked my left index fingernail. I was kind of impressed with how badly this hurt. I now have a nasty bruise under the fingernail and I hope something gross and infected doesn't result. Meanwhile I have Ralph put to work with a Stud Finder (another giggle) to put a hook inside the house for bike storage. Because yes, my bike will be living inside with me.

The local bike shop, I could see myself hanging out there - if I was someone who knew anything about bikes or had more money to spend on them. I have a hard time describing the shop owner T. Firstly, he is a very knowledgeable bike technician and a total pleasure to talk bikes with. Secondly, he is a little bit... different. Personally, I think he's kind of cute but maybe that's because I get inexplicable crushes on focussed mechanical savants who look like they don't have girlfriends. At my parents' last night while I talked about my new bike my husband asked why all bike shop owners are a little odd (he said "weirdo", okay) and I said, "No wait, what about..." and then stopped. Because, well. He was right. I guess there was one bike shop owner in PT that wasn't so much weird as arrogant. But the other two shop owners - woooo! And I had a crush on one of them, too.

Tonight we continued our pleasant weekend experience by a babysitting gift from our friend A. When Ralph and I arrived to pick our children up - after a lovely, lovely dinner at home including uninterrupted conversation - the children were in various states of costumery / undress and watching Ghostbusters (only one of the best family movies ever). On our way out with our two reluctantly-departing children we travelled out the back way to visit A.'s baby goats but the little creatures were apparently sleeping. I didn't know goats took time off like that especially when there was the off chance we were delivering late-night alfalfa.

Then while home Ralph bathes the children and I start come chocolate rye coffee cake (for tomorrow's breakfast - I'd love to make this a Saturday night / Sunday morning tradition) and mix up a batch of laundry soap. Sophie mistakes my grating Fels Naptha soap as a cheese operation and asks for a taste, which I oblige and we laugh at her nose-scrunching reaction.

I love weekends. We sleep in, I make Ralph do stuff, I clean the house, I cook for my family and we cuddle late into the night. Good times.

Labels: babysitting, bike, homesteading, HQX, Sophie

Have there ever been a more connected brother / sister duo than Sophie and Nels? First there's the sleep thing. Wherever the kids start out at night, they end up in our bed by early morning (Nels usually joins us between 2 and 4 AM). So today as I am going about my early-morning shower and washing dishes they are in a pile deep in my bed. After our morning guest E. arrives Nels takes time off playing with her to care for his sister (who started feeling better gradually through the day) by getting her water and feeding her hot cereal. Then, at the tail end of the playdate with E. they show her how to play flashcards: my children both sitting, crossed legs and hands in laps, while Sophie goes through the dual-alphabet cards as "teacher" and Nels models "student". Now as I type this we are at the library, my two taking turns playing on the computer while keeping their voices down. All this in response to my request they not take every board game toy out of the boxes today.

Motherhood has made me superstitious: the moment I give thanks for my children's good health I ahve doomed one of them to fall ill; here I think aloud on their synchronicity and likely they will embark on a catty fighting phase. Maybe the trick is to make sure one avoids gloating and sticks to praise and thanks. I am really grateful for my children and the way they relate to one another. I count on it most days; today I want to take a moment to be glad for it.

In other events: one thing that's not so fun is to be hit with cripping, painful Lady Day cramps in the middle of the day when you're out of home without Midol nor hot water bottle or trashy TV to crash on. What makes it even less fun is for this to happen while bundled up winter-style on a walkabout in HQX, with two young children in tow, needing to do errands then eventually get home and get lunch then dinner (thank you 5 lb. bag of flour!). How I sometimes miss the days where one's emergencies and illnesses really could be focussed on, rather than the background symphony of larger, sometimes stressful dependent-care duties that no one else can or will do for you.

Library time is about over; time to bundle two coats apiece, hats, and off to a visit to my father.

Labels: babysitting, HQX, library, lurve, Nels, paying gig, Sophie