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Archive for March, 2009

32708

tuesday morning on the big hudson bay blanket. mama’s got a new thing for miss-matched socks. such small feet seem to be getting so big.

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Momma Moment #1

darntough

Headed out to Bar Harbor I got the Bean all dressed. I put on my own coat and hat. I packed a snack and water and diapers. I turned down the heat. I even managed to brush my teeth before leaving. I had all the bases covered.

Then I stepped out into the wet March grass in my socks.

p.s. and yes, those socks to say darn tough….damn straight.

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woollove1

They’re striped. They’re handmade. They’re upcycled. They’re on my baby’s bum.

If you haven’t discovered Etsy yet, go make yourself your comfy beverage of choice, settle in, have your mind blown with all of the handmade wonderfulness and then don’t shop anywhere else. ever. again.

Etsy is where I found Sweet Violet’s Mama, home of fantastic upcycled woolies for Luca’s behind. They arrived lighting fast, beautifully packaged and pret-a-porter.

I. love. them.

Wool diaper soakers crafted by hand from someone’s old sweater…rock on.

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keeppaddling

I finally decided to write something about this whole sleep training experience. This is our first real foray into the world of trying to work together as parents to actually, um, achieve something, so it’s entailed so much more than just getting the Bean to sleep better.

There is so much to say. I’m exhausted. But, amazingly enough what we are doing is actually working. Well I’ll be damn.

We’re using Kim West’s book Good Night Sleep Tight (with some modifications, naturally) and so when Luca wakes up at night for no real reason I sit at the foot of our bed and rub his tummy and speak gently to him until he falls back to sleep. In the meantime, Kreg sits up near the head of the bed and basically keeps me from giving up.

It all sounds very gentle and wonderful, but there have been moments in the last week when Luca was not pleased about his new routine and I sat there trying to soothe my crying babe and thinking silently to myself, “If I ever meet Kim West on the street I am going to kick her in the shins”.

Now, last summer when Kreg and I were up in Canada we went for a paddle and hike with our friends Jeff and Meridith. We brought one canoe. Jeff paddled from the bow, Kreg took the stern and Mer and I sat princess.

What does this have to do with Kim West? Stay with me.

We paddled across the lake to a trail, spent the day hiking and then returned to paddle back across to the island. When we got to the canoe we found that the wind had picked up and the lake was a bit, um, choppy.

It was the first time I’d ever seen swells on a lake that size. I’m serious. Swells. We were facing a very tough paddle home. Into the wind. In a very small canoe. With four people.

At some point as the men battled the wind and the water Jeff, who has a wonderful sense of humor, but is not tremendously enamored with any type of strenuous activity was just plain old getting the shit beat out of him by the weather. He was bearing the brunt of the gusts and the tremendous amounts of water coming up over the bow and he was *not* pleased. At some point he screamed into the wind,

“I HATE YOU KREG.”

And which point Kreg shouted back, “SHUT UP AND PADDLE.”

As I’m sitting there on the end of our bed faced with a fussing and sometimes crying babe in the middle of the night, in the dark, with only one sock on, feeling like I’m absolutely the worst mother in the world I will often look back over my shoulder at Kreg and curse whoever and whatever brought me to this moment.

Breaking Luca’s night routine is my wind and water. The bed is our canoe. I’m not tremendously enamored with crying babies, particularly my own.

I look back at Kreg in the stern and he doesn’t even have to say it.

Shut up and paddle.

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320081

friday afternoon. warm sun coming in through kitchen windows. papa not yet home from school. sink full of soapy dishes. bub babbling away on my back. promise of a weekend.

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Thursday afternoon I made crackers.

I had to do SOMETHING. This sleep training (we’re on day 4) is going a little too well. Luca at this point is doing better than I am. He is currently mastering falling asleep totally peacefully all by himself in his crib without needing me anywhere nearby at all.

While he’s doing this, I pace around the silent house, lamenting that my days of rocking my baby to sleep are over forever (which of course just isn’t true) and peeking in on him a little bit too often.

I am Luca’s sleep problem, apparently.

So to keep myself from being a disruption I decided to cook. A huge ball of doughy something was absolutely in order. Cloudy day. Sleeping baby. Slightly achy heart. Dough is the remedy, whole wheat definitely, probably some cumin.

I’d been wanting to make crackers for awhile and found this great recipe . The selection of tasty organic crackers to be found on the island is woefully inadequate and insanely priced and we eat lots of crackers around here. Lots.

So I made dough. The dough rested and so did I. The Bean woke up just in time to watch me roll it all out.
rolling

dough

When he got bored I sang him a song to no particular tune:

We’re rolling out the crackers, yeah, yeah, yeah. They’re gonna be lip smackers, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Luca especially liked the second verse, which is only one line and is sung over and over again with increasing speed until you can’t sing any faster.

Momma’s gone crackers, ha, ha, ha.

Bean thought it was ha-la-ri-ous and the crackers came out full of personality, oddly shaped and highly lovable…like all of us.

crackers

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I’m speechless. I’m smiling. I’m almost teary-eyed. I can’t believe it.

The Obamas are promoting local, organic food.

The enormity of this shouldn’t be lost on any of us.

I’ve been called lots of things for my personal devotion to all things organic, so either I’m perfectly normal and everyone else is crazy or Barak Obama is a tree-hugging, dirt-loving hippie.

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