November Nuptials and A Knit Cap

On Saturday we joyfully witnessed the vows of my husband’s youngest brother and his long-time love!  The ceremony was simple and lovely.  The bride’s teenage daughters were her beautiful Maids-of-Honor, and her son served as Best Man.  The sight of the newly formed family together at the front of the church promised that my eyes weren’t dry!  Little hints of autumn set a beautiful color scheme and a warm atmosphere.  The bridesmaids wore chocolate brown gowns, and the silver accents all around added a bit of magic to everything.  The flowers incorporated white, yellow, and an orange that was so orange I could almost taste it!  Gorgeous.

I love weddings.  I love the Holiness of the promises made.  I love the romance, the food, the care that goes into every decision.  But even if they had stripped away all of the special details, this would have been an uncommonly special wedding.  My new sister-in-law and her kids have been as good as family for nearly as long as my husband and I have been married (more than eight years).  We love all four of them, and we are delighted to make them “official.”

And guess what!  A certain orange cap is finished.  Whoopee!  Although the top didn’t turn out as I had envisioned it, my little man looks quite handsome in his first mommy-made accessory.  I’m still totally in love with the yarn—the color and quality.  This was the first time that I used a circular needle for a hat, and I enjoyed the process very much.  My knitting was unusually even and smooth.   Maybe it was the yarn or the needle, or maybe I’m actually improving.

 

Fall Friends

I’m noticing a weird trend.  Every year, in late October, I start to feel anxious.  I get sort of panicky, overwhelmed, and dissatisfied.  I begin to feel inadequate and question all the busy-ness in my life.  I call it Midterm Syndrome, and although the Syndrome has come upon me almost every year for more than a decade, I am still (somehow) always caught by surprise.  I reach that point in the semester when I realize that time is slipping by too quickly.  The workload is increasing , but the time until finals is disappearing all too fast.  I find myself in the closest that I ever get to “depression,” and I finally ask, “Hey!  What’s happening here?”  And only then do I realize that Midterm Syndrome has struck.  If you look through my previous journals, you would see a very obvious pattern, but oddly I never anticipate the onset.

In the past, I have cured the mucky symptoms by weeding out some of my “extra” activities.  Each fall, I seem to drop out of things or delegate responsibilities to others.  But over the last year, I have been making a conscious effort to simplify (Some of you who know me well are probably chuckling at that!), so I feel like I’m already down to the minimum.  There are no more activities to zap from the schedule.  The things that I do now require very limited time.  So when Sunday evening and Monday morning left no doubt that the Syndrome had arrived, I felt lower and more overwhelmed than ever before.  What can I do if there is nothing to drop out of?  So I moped a bit.  I had a quiet, lay-low kind of Monday.  I cleaned.  And finally, I made a decision to look forward.  I already had plans to have my older son’s friends and their moms (my friends!) over to our house on Tuesday, so I happily wrapped myself in their company.  I relished the sound of seven happy little kids in my home.  I enjoyed the smell of the oddly shaped and wonderfully messy homemade pizzas that they created.  I had a cute cupcake and some homemade chai.  I laughed with other moms and marveled at my husband’s ease in the kitchen and in conversation with my mommy friends.  Then this evening, my family enjoyed Bible study and fellowship with some other friends.  It felt good to be with them after a few weeks of missing our bi-monthly time together.  So what was the cure of Midterm Syndrome 2009?  Friends.  I realized during this bout with my annual slump that the answer is the decision to be thankful, to understand that God has blessed me with friends and family and opportunities to laugh and to love.  Maybe that sounds terribly cliché, but next October, I’m going to keep away the irksome blues with a big ol’ bash at my house.  Wanna come?

 

An Autumn Walk

I long for the time when I can finally return to living in the country. I daydream about a big backyard that naturally blends into the surrounding forest.  I think about apples trees and a pumpkin patch of my own.  I wish for bird feeders and maybe a trout stream.  But this week, my boys and I discovered some urban beauty.  We enjoyed a sunny autumn walk in the city.  I have to admit that it was gorgeous.

We walk these streets several times each week, but this time we explored with an eye toward discovering Autumn’s blessings.

There was much to find.  The sky couldn’t have been any bluer, the leaves any brighter.

 

 

A wool cap update…and more pumpkins

(The following post was supposed to be up Wednesday evening.  Oops!)

I set a goal…orange hat completed in time for the pumpkin patch field trip.  Well, I didn’t quite get there.  Unfortunately, I’m grading a mountain of 4 to 6 page essays this week so knitting time as been scarce.  Fortunately, a turn in the weather produced a 65 degree morning with an ultimate high over 70.  No wool cap needed.

The field trip was a rousing success.  The army of four year olds and many of their parents approached the farm with enthusiasm for the great hunt and a spark of that unmistakeable charm that occurs when you bring together pumpkins, crisp air, and fresh apple cider.  The day was beautiful–especially appreciated after the uncomfortable douse of wet weather last week. 

 

Sad confession:  I only know of the beauty and the charm because Daddy took the camera along.  I, on the other hand, continued to comment upon the aforementioned college essays in our attic/office.  Yes, I had to forgo the smells of cinnamon and earth and all the autumn splendor of the day.  But don’t feel too sorry for me.  I take great joy in knowing that my little son could share the fun with his Dad.  Not many kids can have their fathers along for a weekday adventure.  We are so blessed to live the life we lead.

 So I leave you with this photograph to summarize the day.  My hubby got to put aside Melville for an afternoon among the pumpkins (the gourds and the ever-so-sweet preschool kind), and the cap has seen significant progress but no outdoor time as of yet.

 

(Note: this pumpkin, though small, was chosen to come live with us because it had a “crook.”  Good choice.)

 

A Wool Cap

Fall has taken a surprisingly cool turn.  Snow has appeared in the forecast and on morning door steps.  The proverbial frost on the pumpkin is quite real.  Makes me want to sit down with a cup of Earl Grey and You’ve Got Mail.  Unfortunately, instead of delving into the yummy, cozy rituals of a cold (and rainy) autumn, I’ve been doing a lot of nose wiping and other related activities.  Hmm…now that I think about it, these are the rituals of autumn and the months ahead.  At least for a mommy. 

But despite the tiredness that comes with broken sleep for several nights coupled with the worrying that inevitably comes at the time of a little one’s illness, I’ve been quite productive in my knitting.   Two weeks ago, I completed a small blanket for my new godson.  That project took five months!  While I loved the yarn (good quality washable wool in Caribbean Blue and white) and was fond of the pattern, I confess that the slow progress made me lose my zeal for the project part way through.  In the weeks before the baptism, however, I found myself falling in love with that dear blanket again.   I loved how it felt between my fingers, and I loved imagining the baby wrapped in it or resting on it while his mama tickled his toes or read him a story.  Many prayers and warm thoughts went into that blanket.

As I finished the blanket, my four-year-old asked if he could have a hat.  He had never asked me to knit him something before, and while I often look at wonderful patterns for fun little boy garments, all my knitting seems to be gifts for others.  Neither of my boys has any finished items made by me.  (Although they are fortunate to have a number of beautiful pieces knit and crocheted by people whom we love and who love us.)  So the baby blanket was delivered to its wee owner on a Saturday; on Monday I made a trip to my favorite local yarn shop.  I stole thirty minutes of bliss—stroking skeins, browsing hat patterns, comparing needles.  I confess that the shopping and the planning are as exciting (if not more) as the actual knitting and completing of a project. 

To match his new fall jacket, I chose a muted orange wool and an accent color called “Ash.”  And now I’m knitting, knitting, knitting.  I’m snatching every little moment that I can.  I want this wool cap to be upon my little guy’s head when he goes to the farm on Wednesday for his class field trip (assuming his health improves).  And while I would never wish a cold on any child, a stuffy, feverish little boy needs an early bedtime, and therefore, mama gets to knit!

 

Sick Days

I have a sick little boy.  Poor guy.  It started with a bit of a stuffy nose, a little touch of a headache, but now we’ve got a full blown…um…cold?  Not sure how it’s going to play out.  We’re watching him closely and keeping the grape Tylenol nearby.  I’m not big on medicines at all, but the difference between a little man with a fever and a little man on the purple stuff is remarkable. 

So tomorrow is going to be a cozy, stay-at-home day.  We’ve got the Lite Brite, and I’m ready for a Candyland marathon.  Of course, the little brother prefers to cut teeth on the game pieces.  I guess he can’t resist Grandma Nut and the gang.

What do you do on a sick day?  Better yet, what did you do when you were a kid?

 

Domesticity

I had a weekend of domesticity. I cleaned closets. I mopped the porch, and thirty minutes later I had to scrub it on my hands and knees (Don’t ask…it had something to do with a disintegrating mop). I washed a mountain of tiny socks. I folded a mountain of tiny socks, and I am now left with eleven mismatched oddballs. These are the less charming aspects of the weekend.

 As promised, I made a pot of soup and baked a batch of bread. The soup was Grandma Sunny’s recipe for broccoli cheese soup. Hello Autumn! I told my hubby that this is my perfect comfort food. The soup was creamy, hearty, and cheesy. One question though…why did my pasta soak up almost every bit of the broth? It was like having a bowl of broccoli cheese noodles. Now, I’m not complaining. Trust me; that was one yummy bowl of noodles, but I would like to have some actual soup in my soup next time.

While my boys were out and about on Saturday, I baked some whole wheat bread. I first made this particular recipe from the Joy of Cooking when I was living in my college apartment. My husband—boyfriend at the time—came over very early one morning to bake bread together. Our parents (both sets) came to our college that evening for dinner, and we wanted to show off some homemade wares. We borrowed two beautiful pottery crocks from our professor (who lived across the street). We’ve made this bread dozens of time since then, and I still often think of that first attempt at homemade bread.

We made a few minor changes around the house, primarily in our elder son’s room. We added some new shelving to his closet and packed up clothes that will be Little Brother’s hand-me-downs. I also placed a small nightstand next to his bed, and I moved a little lamp from my room to the new nightstand. At bedtime, instead of the glare of the overhead light, we shared a story in the warm glow of the small lamp. What a difference!

We were busy every minute this weekend. We worked hard. My back hurts, and I’m tired. But somehow these three days that we spent working in our home felt restful.

 

Mission Simplify

With a three-day-weekend declared by our university, my family is tying on the sneakers, pulling out the garbage bags, and doing some major organization. Perhaps it’s a far fetched wish, but I dream of a home that is cheerful and orderly like a kindergarten classroom. I want our life to be simple and tidy. Too much to ask? We’ll see.

I’ll be away from the blog until Monday with the hope of dedicating myself to Mission Simplify. I’ll return with a report on the soup making and bread baking that is scheduled for Saturday. I’ll leave you with one picture of our steps toward organization and simplicity.

Our 4 year old son is now responsible for four morning "tasks." These cards keep him moving forward on a busy morning.

 

Pumpkin Pancakes

Ah…Autumn, I love you. These cool mornings just beg for pumpkins and cinnamon. How about pumpkin pancakes? I whipped up these pretty little babies by simply mixing up Bisquick pancake batter (I use the Heart Healthy kind) according to the box, and I added 2/3 of a cup of canned pumpkin and a dash of cinnamon. Now, if I was the wonderful, from scratch kind of mom that I try to be on the best of days, I would have made my own pancake batter using actual flour and actual measuring cups. I might even have cooked up a nice little pumpkin. But even though I did neither of those things, my son thinks I did some special magic!

 

An October Weekend

This weekend exemplified everything I love about October.  Pumpkins, leaves, gorgeous blue skies, Homecoming festivities, football, family.  We began our busy weekend with a trip to our college alma mater for Homecoming.  The Hubby and I met there in the fall of 1997, and although we didn’t date until after he graduated, the campus is still filled with romance for us.  It’s truly a special place.  The four of us  walked around, saw a few familiar faces, and soaked up the atmosphere.  We closed our trip with a visit to a local institution that embodies everything I love about dear old places.  Shorty’s Lunch, or just “Shorty’s,” is a tiny hot dog shop that is all charm and no frills.  The booths are old and chipped.  The menu is a small plastic board on the wall behind the counter.  Hot dogs, cheeseburgers, fries, and three dinner choices: that’s it and that’s plenty.

Our next stop was the farm.  Not far from the college campus, a family-run farm offers hayrides, pumpkins, a petting zoo, fresh milk and cheese, homemade ice cream, country foods, and activities for kids.  Great stuff, but we were on a strictly pumpkin mission.  After a very brief look at the brand new baby pigs (so cute!) and a grouchy old sheep, we took a tractor-pulled hayride up to the pumpkin patch.

I snapped a few photographs to capture the pumpkin patch experience, but I had to put down the camera.  I didn’t want to miss the moment, living only through a camera’s lens.  The sky was so, so blue.  The corn was tall and lush, and the breeze made it whisper.  Between mud and vines, the most beautiful shade of orange peaked through.  And every so often, we spotted a bumpy yellow gourd or golden pumpkin blossom.  The boys laughed and squealed as they trotted through a hay stack maze.    When we stood very still in the country quiet, the low voices of cows drifted through the corn stalks.  As a country girl transplanted to an urban neighborhood, I could have stayed in that moment forever.  But our plans weren’t through!

Back in the car, we traveled to our primary destination of the day—the baptism of our godson.  Neither my husband nor I have been godparents before, but having grown up in the Catholic Church, the former altar boy was able to prep this little Protestant girl for the basic logistics of the ceremony.  I was really nervous about standing there with both of my wiggly sons in tow, but aside from the little one’s brief protests and the older one’s admonition to the priest (“Don’t put him under!”), the baptism was a success.  Afterward the four of us and the baby’s family had dinner at a delightful English pub-style restaurant.  I felt so good chatting with my dearest friend in the world, cooing over her precious baby, and realizing how deeply satisfying my life is when the important things come first.