I Love Fall

The rainy season has begun. This morning I woke up to raindrops bouncing off the metal roof. For the next eight months, this sound will be our alarm. That, and Lola. I don't mind it, to be honest. Not yet, anyway. The vibrant colors outside are beautiful, with or without sunshine. There are pumpkins everywhere I look. It's warm and cozy in the barn. We have three wonderful holidays to look forward to.

It's lovely to be inside again and curl up in front of the fireplace. To read a book. To bake pies and make soups. And I truly love listening to the patter of raindrops on the roof!

I Do It!

Little Miss Independent will not let me dress her anymore, nor put on her socks, strap on her shoes, wipe her butt, and so on and so forth. No, every single time I try to do any of these things, it's "I do it!" She's really cute when she is struggling with doing everything herself, and it is very funny to watch. Most of the time. But it takes FOREVER! My patience levels are reaching previously inconceivable new heights.

Lola really likes being a big girl that does things all by herself. Except when it's not convenient, of course. I am still her mule that carries her blanky, her babies, her bears, her toys, her. But I am also the person that can fix anything and everything. And the first person she calls for when she wakes up. That is the part I enjoy most. While it lasts...

Style Or Comfort?

I scored a pair of Levi's the other day. They used to belong to a teenager but I don't think they have ever been worn. They were in a bag with children's clothing that was given to Carla. They're a size 6 (36/38) and they fit like a glove! "You suck," Carla told me when I was able to close the zipper and still breathe. I was really pleased.

The thing is, they're 'mom jeans'. Jeans where the waistline actually comes up to a natural height. Somewhere in time jeans' waistlines dropped and 'low riders' became the norm. Only mothers (and the occasional world leader), notoriously uncool, would prefer comfort over style and stick to natural waistlines. Hence the term 'mom jeans'.

Despite having been told for years now that the waistline is on the rise again, I have seen no evidence to support this. It feels very strange to wear pants this high and when I look in the mirror, I am instantly transported to the early eighties, back to my high school pictures. This pair of pants may have belonged to a teenager, proving that fashion recycles itself every thirty years or so, they're still mom jeans.

I do not want to wear mom jeans. I am too young to wear mom jeans. And too cool. I must admit though, they're really comfortable. Maybe with a long shirt, so you don't actually see my waistline?

Autumn Joy

When I brought Lola to daycare on this sun filled yet bitter cold morning, I noticed a dense fog over Black Lake just down the road from Carla's house. The combination of sunshine, changing colors and mystical fog was too good to pass up. I decided to take the long way home, past the lake and through a beautiful and forested part of Olympia.

The fog quickly subsided but the ride was wonderful nonetheless. Olympia is so beautiful this time of year. Washington is called the Evergreen State because it is covered in tall pine trees. It really is green here year round. During the fall however, it becomes apparent just how many deciduous trees there are as well. A few more sunny days like today alternated with freezing cold nights and every possible shade of yellow, orange, and red will pop from the green.

We're in luck, the weather report has nothing but sunshine for the rest of the week. Oh, how I love autumn!

For The Love Of Pumpkins

Carla, Dylan, Lola, and I went to the Nisqually Pumpkin Patch today. A petting zoo, a cow train, a hay ride, a corn maze, a straw fort, and of course thousands of pumpkins to choose from; it has to be my favorite way to spend a sunny fall day.

Releasing My Inner Martha

For most of my adult life I secretly wanted to be Martha Stewart. I never realized this, of course, in fact I didn't even know who Martha Stewart was for the majority of those years.

My desire would mainly surface at the end of summer. Every year at the arrival of autumn, when it was time to go back inside and turn on the heat, I wished to transform my home into a beautifully decorated palace. I ambitiously wanted to organize elegant dinner parties for friends and family to celebrate my birthday, or Christmas, or simply the season.

It has never happened the way I envisioned. Mainly due to lack of energy and creativity. By the time I had baked an apple pie or decorated the Christmas tree, I was pretty much done. I never spent the holidays at my apartment, anyway.

Now that I have a family of my own, I want to be like Martha even more. I wish to grow my own vegetables and cook wonderfully healthy meals every day (the zucchini soup is a start) whilst arranging roses cut from my own garden and decorating my barn. And with Halloween and Thanksgiving, there are even more holidays to celebrate now.

To make matters worse, I have become rather addicted to reading craft and decorating blogs. There are many Martha's out there, I tell you. Stay at home moms, career women, home schoolers, or any combination thereof. I share with these inspiring women a love of thrift stores, the Dollar Tree, yard sales, and spray paint. Not much else it seems, because I have no idea how they can work, raise children, run a household, whip out a crafty project every day and blog about it, too.

When we installed the windows, I vowed to make the barn more of a home. Now that we have space and light, it's time to decorate. It is a bit of a challenge though, since we have no shelves, no walls, no furniture suitable for decorating really. And of course, it has to be out of Lola's reach for the time being.

People without gardens can still garden. It's called container gardening, I did it for years. I would like to introduce the concept of Container Decorating. I took the last of my fruit crates, hung it and decorated it for All Hallows Eve.


There are two projects out there that I am particularly in love with: the googly eyes wreath and the faux mercury glass pumpkins. Having limited space and being on a copper kick still, I altered them to fit my needs. (Also, I am too cheap to buy 'funkins', I buy my all fakes at the dollar store.)



Lola helped too. She handled the hammer like a pro.



I am very pleased with my container, if I do say so myself. I feel confident Martha would approve, if only because I used her felt webbing.

Go check out more great ideas at Its So Very Cheri!

Zucchini Soup From Scratch

Preparation time: approximately five months. Ingredients: olive oil, onions, zucchinis, vegetable broth, sour cream, salt & pepper. Serves four.

1. Plant zucchini seeds in little clay pots in late spring.

2. Transfer plants to sunny patch in the summer. Fight the slugs and watch the deer eat the leaves.


3. Harvest the two zucchinis that made it at the end of summer when it is starting to feel like fall. Show them off.

4. Heat two tablespoons of olive oil in a pot with a thick bottom.

5. Chop two onions and throw them in the pot, slowly cooking them to a golden brown color over low heat.

6. Meanwhile, wash and dice the zucchinis and add them to the pot.

7. Add one pint of vegetable broth (the zucchinis do not need to be completely covered).

8. Gently boil for about ten minutes until the zucchinis are done.

9. Take the pot off the burner and puree the soup.

10. Stir in one cup of sour cream.

11. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

12. Serve to vegetable lovers and haters alike and revel in their compliments.

Enjoy!

Rinse And Repeat

Why settle for one window when you can have three?

This time I assisted with the heavy lifting. It was a little scary because the windows really do weigh quite a bit and I was afraid they would topple over. With me on the outside and Ryan on the inside there was no way I would have been able to stop them from falling backwards. But they didn't and all is well.

So...

My 9th grade English teacher taught me English grammar does not allow starting a sentence with the word 'so'. Use it as an adverb, an adjective, a conjunction, but NOT as an opening. And if you mean 'therefore', use that word instead. I blatantly disregard these rules. But every time I do, I think of him. Every single time.

I really liked Larry Robinson. He was a great teacher. Not only did he provide useful skills like knowledge of correct grammar and spelling, he cared about his students. Very much. He had a good sense of humor. He gave us interesting assignments and I learned about resumes for the first time in my life.

He was a little vain, though, which we thought was funny. He was short which he compensated by wearing high heels (we're not talking Prince here, it wasn't that bad; Mr. Robinson was taller and his heels were lower). He had curly hair that he brushed out, creating a very interesting hairstyle, a semi-afro with a bit of a comb-over. It was the early Eighties, so (see?) he was able to get away with that.

He was young and energetic, and very involved with his students. Sometimes more than they cared for. When he caught wind of the fact my parents' marriage was in trouble, he wanted to talk to me about that. I wished to remain in denial and tried to avoid him, so (I know...) he made me stay after school. Being a teenager, I was very annoyed by it then, but I appreciate it now.

When Muzzey Jr High School closed its doors for good at the end of the school year, and I moved back to Holland, he moved on to Lexington High School where he became a student counselor. He eventually became principal of Andover High School until his death, ten years ago today. He was only in his forties. Much too young.

So, Mr. Robinson, of all the teachers I have ever had, you were the best one by far. I have wonderful memories of my 9th grade year and you are partly responsible for that. I promise to teach my daughter the proper use of the word 'so' and other English grammar rules. I am also trying to teach her another language, so bear with me. Fortunately my mother-in-law is an English teacher too, and I am sure she'll be happy to help out.

I truly wish Lola will some day have a teacher like you!

No Laughing Matter

Lola has caught on to the fact that in order to shop, you need money. The other day I gave her some coins to put in her purse, where they miraculously transformed into a one and a five dollar bill. (So that's where our money goes...)

Last night she decided she wanted her money on her, and put it into her pants pockets. And then forgot all about it.

This morning when she got up, she went straight for her purse, only to find it empty. "Where is my money?", she demanded to know. Ryan started to laugh.

"That is NOT funny, papa!", she replied.

Welcome to the big world, little girl.

Hole In The Wall

How to bring light in the darkness in eight simple steps:

Step one
Build the window frame. Careful measuring is crucial here!


Step two
Take a break to clean the gutters. Not really necessary for proper window placement, strictly speaking, but much appreciated.


Step three
Cut a hole in the wall. This is a VERY scary step.





Step four
Remove the cat from the new window opening. Essential.


Step five
Place the window. Enlisting the help of a good friend for the heavy lifting rather than working with your wife on this step is better for your marriage and her back. Unfortunately no wife means no photographer.


Step six
Take pride in your work.


Step seven
Mentally prepare for an eternity of grubby fingerprints on the glass.


Step eight
Enjoy the view. And the light!


Ryan did good. Real good. And did I mention he figured out how to light the oven without blowing up the barn, too? My husband rocks, people!

And never before have I enjoyed window washing this much!

Romancing The Slugs

Lola's latest animal infatuation is slugs. Every morning and every evening she goes on a slug hunt around the barn. She is totally and utterly fascinated by them. She coos over them, tickles them with feathers, and is delighted and disgusted at the same time when she touches them with her finger.

Her new found love was set off by a pair of mating slugs. When we said they were making babies, all she heard was 'babies' and since everything baby is cute, slugs are cute too.

It is a little strange perhaps, but I understand. I once hand fed a slug a piece of bread (the large opening on a slug's side is its mouth) on a hiking trip in Wales. I even gave my temporary friend a name: Charlie. Lola likes to feed the slugs pieces of apple.

As long as it keeps them out of my garden...

No Guilt, No Glory

Yesterday I went to pick up Lola from daycare after work, as I do every day. The front door was locked and no-one answered when I knocked. I walked around back to find Lola, Dylan, Franklin, Carla, and the dogs playing in the backyard. They were having a blast together.

Lola was very happy to see me but when it was time to go home, she told me "No." She wanted to stay. After going back and forth on the subject for a little bit, I did what I usually do in these circumstances; I gave her a hug and a kiss, said good bye and walked away, fully expecting her to come running after me, as she always does.

It backfired. She was absolutely fine with me leaving. That was NOT supposed to happen. I walked back up to her but no, she really was intent on staying. Carla told me it was fine with her and that I should enjoy the unexpected night alone with my husband. And so I did.

I love having the occasional night off, but this time it didn't sit well with me at all. I felt a little heartbroken. (Of course the melancholic classic rock song playing on the radio the entire way home didn't do much to lighten the mood.) I thought of all the things I do not do with my daughter. We have never been to the zoo together. We do not do crafts together. We hardly ever go to the park together, or go swimming. Lola does all these things, but with Carla. Not with me.

I know this sense of failure I have is self imposed. Not working, or working less, is not an option at the moment. And I am extremely fortunate and blessed in having found Carla. I leave my daughter in very capable and loving hands every day. I do for my family what needs to be done in the best way possible. But that doesn't lessen the feelings of guilt. And that makes me sad. And not just for Lola but mostly for myself, truth be told. Which adds on even more guilt.

Motherhood, it truly is a source of joy. And of guilt, just as much.

Moving House - US Style

Bye Bye Barbie

On my seventh birthday I became the proud guardian of Barbie. My Barbie had long, dark brown hair, and when you moved her legs, her arms moved as well. I LOVED her. With the help of my crafty grandparents and parents, I created and collected boxes full of accessories for her. Clothes, furniture, and linens mostly. And of course Ken, the overly tan male barbie with plastic hair, followed by Skipper, the teenager, were later added to the family.

My sister had a collection of barbies as well. Her accessories were even cooler. She had the RV, the horse, and the bicycle, if I remember correctly. Together we played and played, inventing elaborate story lines and turning all sorts of household supplies into useful items. Dish pans were transformed into swimming pools, plant stands turned into stairs.

When I outgrew Barbie, she disappeared into the trunk in my room, along with all of her clothes and furniture. The trunk that held all of my childhood memorabilia. It has accompanied me to every home I have ever had, including the barn. Over the years I have sorted through it and thrown stuff away, but never Barbie or her luggage. I have always held on to her, secretly hoping I would one day have a daughter to pass her on to.

And that's what I did this weekend. Lola loves to play with the barbies at Carla's house but I hadn't given her mine yet. On Saturday, however, the two of us were upstairs reorganizing my clothes when I pulled out Barbie and everything that comes with her.

Lola was delighted! She has played with nothing else since. The glue on the furniture is old and not holding up anymore, and the pile of 'to be fixed' furniture is rapidly growing. But Barbie is still her fabulous self. She hasn't changed a bit!

It was so much fun watching Lola play with my barbies. We emptied the boxes onto the floor and she sat amidst it all, picking everything up and examining it carefully. She even took the barbies to bed with her.

I caught myself being very protective of Barbie though. I spoke of "my barbies" to Lola and watched her like a hawk. Thirty six years of guardianship is not easily surrendered. But the time has come to let go. I am not lending Barbie to Lola after all, I am passing her on, as I had always dreamed of. She is Lola's now, and she can do with her as she pleases.

Except cut her hair. Or polish her nails. Or use make-up on her. Or markers. Or crayons...