babychop, trying to put on new slippers: aaaaargh! oh NOOOO! i can't do it!
me: be patient, you can do it!
babychop: i am being patient!
me: no. you're getting upset.
babychop: but i AM being wonderful!
me: yes. yes, you are. *kiss*
christmas is a reality check
for what matters.
love.
peace.
health.
afternoons with neighbors.
playdates with kids.
playdates without kids.
cookie-dough kisses from the chopster.
egg nog and the magic of little, white lights.
the smell of a freshly cut tree.
time to reflect
on what feeds our soul
and our hearts.
i hope yours is full.
merry christmas. xo
last year, on the winter solstice, i met some friends to celebrate the promise of longer days and warmer toes. after we said our goodbyes, i headed out for my last holiday errand.
driving down a very snowy road, i saw the sweetest message.
oh! i wish my camera had been in my hands!
passing it, i drove for another mile, the whole time thinking,
"you have to go back...but there are other cars!
you can't turn around. but you must turn around!
it is too much of a hassle...
no.
go back.
you'll kick yourself if you don't."
so i did.
i turned around.
yes! good move!
i pulled off onto a snowy bank and grabbed my camera bag from the back seat.
i tromped through the snow, giggling at myself.
breathing in the icy air, i took in the sweetness and let the word fill my heart.
click.
joy.
joy, indeed.
*see how others are viewing the hustle and bustle of the holidays at shutter sisters.
wise words sent to me from my old roommate, ed,
who used to fill our apartment with lovely smells of
butter, melted cheese, creamy sauces and stews, baked goods
and chocolate everything.
to ed, it wasn't good unless it had at least two sticks of butter in it.
and boullabaise? *drool* don't get me started.
we would stuff our faces and wash it all down with a coke.
(you have to say "coke" with a baltimore accent)
xo i love you, ed.
HOLIDAY EATING TIPS
1. Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Holiday spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're serving rum balls.
2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. It's rare... You cannot find it any other time of year but now. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? It's not as if you're going to turn into an eggnog-alcoholic or something. It's a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. It's later than you think. It's Christmas!
3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That's the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Repeat.
4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they're made with skim milk or whole milk. If it's skim, pass. Why bother? It's like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission..
5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Holiday party is to eat other people's food for free. Lots of it. Hello?
6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Year's. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you'll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and that vat of eggnog.
7. If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and don't budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the center of attention. They're like a beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you're never going to see them again.
8. Same for pies. Apple, Pumpkin, Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or if you don't like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? Labor Day?
9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it's loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards.
10. One final tip: If you don't feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you haven't been paying attention. Re-read tips; start over, but hurry, January is just around the corner. Remember this motto to live by:
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand and wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"
Note: This holiday eating advice not condoned by health professionals.
after eating our chocolate from the advent calendar,
we plugged in the white, twinkly lights that hang over our bed and climbed in.
"are you excited about santa coming to our house?"
i lay there, facing our sweet boy, waiting for his answer.
an enormous smile and a giggle came from behind his hands
that were covering his mouth.
"what do you hope he brings you?"
the answer, barely a whisper: i don't know!
more giggles as the possibilities filled his head.
piling on the sofa with my boys,
watching the macy's thanksgiving day parade,
i can feel the tears well up.
i am so thankful for this life.
there is nothing else i need.
love.
a warm house.
my health.
my sweet family.
friends-who-are-like-family.
community.
more than ever, i am grateful.
thankful for every day.
travel safely.
soak in all of the goodness.
and if you don't see the goodness? then look for it.
it is all around you.
when he first started going to school,
i would ask my sweet babychop,
who did you sit next to at lunch today?
before he knew the names of his classmates,
he would describe them to me.
"the one with the pocket on his shirt."
"the one with the crazy hair"
"the one with the boo-boo on his face."
and my favorite:
"you know, mama...you know the one? he says, 'NO!!!! not you! ME! not you, MEEEE!!!'
you know that one mama?"
yes,sweetpea. i know that one.
we all do.
i so ess-ited to go to school today!
he ran down three flights of stairs, naked,
and was waiting by the front door.
bye! i love you, mama!
he shouted up to me as my husband
carried our boy's shirt, pants, shoes, raincoat,
lunchbox, and monkey backpack, down to babychop.
c'mon, papa! let's goooooooooooo!
it wasn't such a sunny beginning.
two weeks ago, after his first day, he begged,
i don't want to go to school!
i don't want to go to school!
i don't want to go to school!
please, mama. please, papa!
i just miss you so much!
(repeat at least 20 times and you'll get the picture)
after the first two days, he solemnly stated,
i already went two times.
not five.
just two.
and that is enough.
at the end of the first week, he threw his face into my neck, and sobbed.
i just want to stay at home with
mama, and papa, and a cat called paprikash!
it was awful. he would start pleading
from the moment i picked him up in the afternoon,
all through the evening until bedtime.
it began again the moment he opened his eyes in the morning.
the begging-not-to-go.
the refusing-to-get-dressed.
the pleading-and-declaring-his-love, trying to change our minds
as i tried to hide my own tears.
and then, CLICK.
something shifted.
maybe it was the crocodile and monkey song that won him over.
or maybe it was the chickens that live next to the playground.
it may have been the school garden, where the snacks come from.
or maybe it's the comraderie with the other boys after
learning how to stand up and use a urinal...
as i climbed into bed last night
i pulled babychop closecloseclose,
curling around his warm sleepiness.
i buried my nose deep into his blonde curls
and inhaled.
campfire.
the smoky remnants of the evening infused in each lock.
the end of summer.
roasted marshmallows.
good friends and family.
i breathed again, matching my
inhale and exhale with his.
eleven days before his first day of school.
the long, lazy days of summer are fading fast.
the crisp scent of fall is right around the corner,
mixing with promise, new strength, and growth.
hey! i know! p-p-p peanut sounds like p-p-p-papa!
right?
right?
"yes! and also p-p-p-popcorn!"
yeahyeahyeah! right! and also p-p-p-pizza, right?
"you are so smart!"
and you know what else, mama? p-p-p-plove.
our boy turned three on monday.
36 months since he was handed to me.
156 weeks together.
our lazy mornings and unstructured days
together are coming to an end in septmember
when he starts pre-kindergarten. (wait. what?! eek!)
he is so ready and excited to be going.
my mama-heart wants to hold him next to me forever
but i know that he has a whole world that is his.
full of his experiences.
seen from his eyes.
three.
t-h-r-e-e.
th-th-th-three.
please browse through my winter photos and meet me halfway
between here and there.
thank you.
p.s. also, in case you think i am not appreciative of your hard work, i am totally digging your efforts in helping out the farmers with their produce.
(20-ish empty quart-containers from the strawberries we ate in may.)
xo,
kathleen
babychop is one lucky little dude.
and i am one lucky mama to have
this sweet man to share the adventure of
parenthood with me.
singing songs, reading books,
playing make-believe,
being a jungle-gym,
encouraging, teaching,
cheering, snuggling.
you are the best papa ever, my love.
happy father's day to all you papas out there.
he had the ring in his pocket the whole time.
waiting for the right moment,
it was tucked away, deep down,
as we walked to peter's inn for dinner.
he had his arm around my shoulders, contemplating
the perfect words to accompany the perfect ring
when i asked, "how do you know we have what it takes?"
what are you talking about?
"so many people in the world fall in love. but not everyone lasts.
what makes us so special? how do we know we will last?"
without answering, he kissed me on the cheek and opened the door to the restaurant.
earlier that afternoon, i opened my mailbox to find the march 2000 issue of the sun magazine.
the theme for the "readers write" section was "the marriage bed". while waiting for paul to pick me up for dinner, i read about what the marriage bed meant to the authors of the submitted entries.
one woman wrote about receiving her marriage bed as a gift from her mother. her mother's wish was for "many blessings on their new marriage and many a good night's sleep." breakfast in bed and lazy weekend mornings in the beginning, turned into the couple sharing their bed with their newborn daughter, all three curled up together.
a widow wrote about missing her largerthanlife husband and feeling the void in their bed after twenty-something years of loving him.
a man wrote about making a bed, for his new bride, from trees he cut down himself!
but the other stories painted a different picture
of betrayal, neglect, abuse, and depression.
left on a curb for the trash collectors, a marriage bed was hauled away.
the author wrote, "it was as if all those joys and tears and angry words
had never been."
"how do we know that we won't end up like that?" i asked paul as we walked.
we won't.
being the youngest child of a father who was married five times,
i wasn't convinced.
my mind was all over the place when we got home from dinner.
come out on the roof and look at the stars with me. (setting up for the popping-of-the-big-question)
"i am going to bed," i answered. "i want to read."
the next night, paul cooked.
lying on his sofa, i continued to read, convinced that true love
didn't exist in the real world.
or, if it did, it was fleeting. not something that stayed.
and certainly not for someone like me.
i read, out loud, to him while he set the table and piled pasta onto our plates.
pausing between mouthfuls, he took my hand.
do you want to know how i know we will last?
faith.
i have faith in the love that i feel for you and i know
that i want to spend the rest of my life with you.
that is when he put the little black box on the table.
the one he had carried while listening to my rants about failed marriages.
the one that he, bravely, still gave to me after hearing my doubts.
we got married sixteen months later.
nine years ago, today.
june sixteenth, two thousand one.
and our marriage bed? we bought it when i was pregnant with our son.
and the three of us curl around each other every night.
i am so glad that ring didn't stay in his pocket.
dear strawberries,
thank you for finally making that trip
through the maryland soil and onto
my table.
it seemed like it took forever
but you are worth the wait.
thank you for gently asking the apples
and bananas to step aside as you took their place.
thank you for confirming that all of the
white-centered impersonators were only after
my hard-earned money;
taking advantage of my weakened state due to
the winter produce blues.
and baby...you are the real deal.
sweet.
rubylicious through and through.
perfect. blemishes and all.
i have missed you!
and i know you can't stay long but
this short visit means so much to me.
fondly, kathleen
"some people raise children but never mother them,
others mother all of their lives without ever giving birth."
as i watched my mother help liam
climb up a spiny column of metal at
the playground today,
i sat. smiling.
my heart bursting
with gratitude for the selflessness
and unconditional love
she has shown to me,
and now, my son.
there were many opportunities when i was a child
that this woman,
who didn't give birth to me,
could have walked away saying,
"you're really not mine. i need to move on with my life."
but she didn't.
she stuck around.
she made sure i was ok.
she saved me.
she listens.
she lectures when i need it.
she cheers me on like i'm a rockstar.
she reminds me to keep my chin up and keep my glass half full.
liam loves his oma.
and i don't blame him.
hers is a heart of gold and it shines
warmth to everyone who knows her.
i love you, mom.
i am so glad
you stayed.
*quote borrowed from stacy's facebook update. xo
to meet you, sweetpea.
over breakfast, i told him he was a funny baby.
i not a baby anymore, mama.
putting my fork down, i asked him to tell me what he was, if not my baby.
i a little boy.
he shoveled some eggs into his mouth
as my heart broke.
babychop and papa begin to dig.
we've been hunkering down here in charm city
after two big blizzards and dig-outs.
almost two weeks since the first flake fell
and our city is slowly coming to.
sleepy in pace,
we're trying to shake off the cold
and imagine the warm days ahead.
catching up on photos and correspondence.
lazy afternoons with babychop.
soaking it all in. being still.
it took 45 minutes to go around this block to my house.
note the two way street with one lane plowed.
fourth grade students from watkins elementary school in d.c..
video credit goes to the washington post.
this video made me cry,
for the loss of a great leader;
for the pride these children have;
for the hope of peace.
we have come a long way.
we still have even further to go.
the hateful, racist comments that were left on this site
sicken me.
it saddens me that there are people, of all color,
who are raising their children to think that
racial prejudice is something that needs to continue.
there is hope,
as can be seen on this clip,
that our children will carry on the dream
of dr. king.
spread the word.
walk the walk.
open your heart.
it's never too late.
babychop and hanna.
new years day, 2010.
new years day, 2010.
hanging with the big kids.
christmas shopping + tired toddler + coin rides = no meltdown.
post-brush rinsing of the pearly-whites.
christmas eve. waiting for santa with papa.
me: are you still my baby?
babychop: yes, mama. i still your baby.
me: will you always be my baby?
babychop (throws his arms around my neck): YES!
do you think he means it?
and will he always love me as much as he does now?
i spent my new year's eve
reflecting on the previous 12 months.
pouring through pictures
as i listened to babychop's faint snoring
through the monitor.
in the quiet, i was searching for
a word to focus on in the year ahead.
a single word that will keep me grounded.
i have felt the need to amp up my game.
make time to be a good mama and partner. to be present and not rush.
make time to groove out with my camera so that i feel full.
i need to use each 24 hour period wisely.
yeah. this may all sound kind of sappy.
(ok. it does sound very sappy.)
but dern it, folks. this life...it goes by fast.
and i want to contribute.
i want to be a part of the good energy out there.
energy.
good energy will inspire me to do my best.
feel my best.
fill my heart.
and the bad, soul-sapping energy out there?
be gone.
outtie.
don't let the door hit ya...
so.
there it is.
energy.
word.
taken somewhere on harford road. winter solstice 2009.
