not my greatest moment...

So, after all that talk yesterday about how I'm so smitten with my little lady, I went and shouted at her.

While she was laughing. (cringe)

First, she wouldn't nap.  Believe me, she needed the nap.  I needed the nap.  She's working on her top two canines and I think that's what some of the grumpiness has been about the last day or two.  Then I changed her and when I tried to put a new diaper on she kept squirming away and laughing.  Because it tickled, I guess, when I touched her legs.

Hard to put a diaper on a squirmy babe without touching her legs though, right?  So anyway.  It was amusing.  Maybe just a little.  For the first 5 minutes or so.  But it was nearing time for us to leave and I was not feeling amused.  I put her down, diaper-less, pointed towards the other room and firmly said "go".  I was over it.

So she went.  She ran, half naked, to the couch.  Where she buried her face in the cushion and sobbed.

Of course that made me feel pretty terrible, but mostly I just wanted to get that diaper on and get on with what we needed to do.  After a few minutes, I tried again.  Now, I've dealt with her general squirminess during diapering for quite a long time now, but this was something else.  I shouted at her to Stop! It!  She was not phased.  I shouted Claire! Annelise! Let! Me! Put! Your! Diaper! On!, etc.  Nothing.  I knew it was ridiculous to yell, but I was just in that place.  You know, that place where you see yourself saying/doing something ridiculous and inside your head you are telling yourself to just calm down and get over it.  But it's no use.  Because sometimes it just feels good to let it out a little.

Ugh.

I put her down again.  She peed on the floor and I almost slipped in it.  At least I'm decent enough not to yell at her for peeing on the floor.  She is only 21 months old, after all.  She's not quite got the hang of the potty.

But still.  That was what I was trying to avoid.  I told her to go to her potty and she ran to it, crying.  Finally she let me get the diaper on her, though I still felt like I was wrestling a fish.

Afterwards, on our way to work, I felt pretty crappy.  I know that there are things far worse than occasionally raising your voice at your children.  Certainly it isn't the ideal reaction to a laughing mischievous little one during a rowdy diaper change, but no one is perfect and it happens from time to time.  It's just not something I do much and it all felt so wrong.  To both of us, I'm sure.

Later on, after we were back home, I asked Claire "did Mama yell earlier?".  She said "ye-eahhhhh" with a little roll of her eyes and smirk (that stinker).  I asked where and she pointed right into my room, where we had been.  I asked "what did mama say?" and she said "ah! ah! aye! aiieeee-ah!", laughing.

Well, at least it was amusing for her.  Meanwhile, here I am typing out something like a confessional because I'm still feeling less than wonderful about my temper tantrum.

Putting on my grown up pants now.  No more tantrums for mama.  Hopefully not for a while, anyway.  I shall remember to breathe.  laugh.  let go.  and give in.  It's so very much nicer that way.

And today?  Well, today she is full of kisses and smiles for me and I am returning them with perhaps over-the-top enthusiasm.  Though really, I suppose you can't ever be over-the-top when it comes to laying the love on the little ones, now can you?

this weekend

We spent the day after Thanksgiving lazily reading, napping, and eating...... french toast for breakfast, leftovers for dinner.

It was unseasonably warm.  So much so that I even got to hang laundry on the line.  A bit odd for late November I suppose, but I enjoyed it even more because I know such days will be few and far between for the next several months.

Anyway, I was nowhere near any large retail establishments.  Definitely the way I prefer to spend my "Black Friday".  In fact, the farthest I got from our house was the sandbox in the yard.

On Saturday Claire and I went to a couple late season yard sales and found some cool stuff~ books and a few odds and ends for her, a large storage basket/trunk, some crafty things and a cool wooden box for me.  Here are a few of my favorite finds from our little outing:

Afterwards it was home for a big (and late) breakfast.  I discovered that she does not care for grits.  Not even with a fair amount of butter and cheese.  How can that be?  Hmm.  That's alright- I happily ate hers.

With papa at work, we girls hung around for the rest of the day reading, snacking and playing.  A short walk around the neighborhood left us with a dozen fresh eggs from our neighbors.  Our neighbors with 3 hens.  They get 3 eggs a day.  Good hens!  We, on the other hand, have 5 hens and have been getting a whopping 1 egg a day for a while now.  Yep.  One.  We have one hen who lays regularly, one who lays regularly but often eats! her! egg! (the nerve) before we can get it, one who is molting and therefore is on a laying hiatus, Pearl, who has never laid for us, and another Buff Orpington who we have been waiting (and waiting) to start laying.  Yesterday Mike suggested maybe we needed to get some different hens.  You know, ones that lay eggs.

Not a terrible idea.  But what to do with these girls?  Keep them around and feed them like they are (rather unaffectionate and surly) pets?  Or eat them?  Or give them away?  Only time will tell.

Time and whatever mood we are in on the day we start making decisions about their fate, I suppose.

But anyway, back to the weekend.  On Saturday Claire helped me make pumpkin muffins, and all day long I was struck by how much I love this little girl of mine.  It's not anything new, of course.  But lately I am just so head over heels that I feel literally taken aback by it.  Watching her in amazement, I am near tears of joy quite regularly.  Listening to her talk, sing, and laugh, I can't believe how much is coming out of her mouth.  Today she looked at the book I'm currently reading and asked of the photo on the cover (which is of a woman walking her dog, and they are both in the shadows) "what's that man doing, mama?"  So I told her that the woman was walking her dog.  She sees things she doesn't know or understand and she asks what they are.  Simple, yes.  But still, I am amazed.  She is counting, singing, joking....... a personality exploding before my eyes.

I am thrilled to be along for this ride.  And especially grateful to have one of the best seats in the house for the show.

I rode that wave of warm fuzzies right into Sunday (even though she was a bit of a grumpster on Sunday).  Papa came home and we all had breakfast together.  Lots of clementines, of course.  Ever since I picked some up at the store and introduced her to them, there is no stopping her.  She likes them morning, noon and night.  She calls them "lemon-times".

I kind of hope she calls them that forever.  I will admit that I'm now at the point where I ask her to repeat things just so I can hear them again because they're so darn cute.  I do it often.

Like with refrigerator, "fridge-a-fater", and porcupine, "turkey-pine".  And many, many more.  And many more to come.

She played in her room as I began my attempt at organizing the closet in there that is now spilling over with my various art/craft supplies.  She painted in the dining room as I cooked and cleaned in the kitchen.  We listened to Christmas music (shhhhh! don't tell Mike) and snacked and for the most part happily did our own thing in each other's company.  She took a nice long nap and I made turkey soup, froze some stock, and steamed and pureed the rest of the pumpkin that had already given us a pie, pancakes and muffins.  We snacked on a few big chunks of it before pureeing the rest~ yum!

I'm liking my return to work.  I feel like I really lucked out in finding the job that I did.

But I'll take a 5 day weekend anytime.

pumpkin pancakes

This morning we had our 2nd annual Thanksgiving Morning Pumpkin Pancake Feast~  Last year it was just the 3 of us, but this year we did it right with a few good friends, fresh squeezed OJ, good coffee, and lots of toddler play.

Yum, yum, yum.

We used this delicious recipe.  Fan or not, that Martha just doesn't let you down in the kitchen.

Now onto dinner preparations, hopefully a nap for the littlest, and some good ol' gratitude. (not that there isn't always the latter)


Thank you for the wind and rain,
the sun and pleasant weather,
thank you for this, our food,
and that we are together


HAPPY THANKSGIVING~

these days

These days, I am working on an important project,

thinking about yummy winter squash recipes,

tending the greens seedlings and wondering if I can get them off to a healthy enough and not-so-leggy start to go into the (as yet unbuilt) hoop house and have a fighting chance of making it through colder days ahead,

(though surely they'll make it if Claire keeps blessing them with a gentle, gentle pat and telling them to "grow, grow, GROW!")

enjoying the apples and pears (in the forms of spiced pear cardamom butter, apple raisin chutney and roasted apple butter),

and very much enjoying the pleasure she is now taking in slightly longer picture books, and the way she is (usually) very respectful of her (and the library's) books.

And I am always loving those little feet.  Always.

in late autumn

I have made a small seasonal nature table for Claire to enjoy.  Her first of many to come.

Our neighborhood jack-o-lanterns say their goodbyes~

The grand white oaks have won the battle (of course they have), not the rakes and leaf blowers~

We are ever so grateful for the huge piles of kindling kindly split for us by Mike's father last week, and we will continue to be grateful each time we start a fire just a bit more easily in the months to come~

We have finally put up the last of the pears and apples (after enjoying many fresh and feeding more than I'd like to admit to the chickens each time we culled the boxes because we were, ahem, noticing fruit flies...maybe one day we'll come up with a plan for a little root cellar somewhere around here....) that we were lucky to pick/be gifted with this season, turning them into butters, sauces and chutneys.  Mike also canned some pickled hot peppers and they turned out so beautifully~

I'm enjoying the colorful dried flowers that I picked up at the holiday tailgate market this weekend and plan on making several "tussy mussies" to put around the house to brighten things up a bit~

That's us, late autumn.  

on a mission

You can't put on big red rubber boots and not have a job to do.

So.... off she went with her bucket, leading me to the sweet stuff.

Corn, for the ladies.

(have to make sure every kernel is accounted for, of course)

on the mend

"Tea" (honey in warm water) and broth for breakfast, a visit with the chickens in the afternoon, lots and lots and lots of reading, a long nap (in her bed!), a trip to the library, brown rice for dinner.  Oh, and DVDs.  Can't forget those.  We enjoyed a few sweet ones as we lazed on the couch yesterday.  Just what the doctor ordered.

All is well.  Bellies are happy once again.

I am fiercely in love with this funny, stoic, lovely little girl of mine.

visits, vomit, Starbucks, and a pickup truck

Nana and Pipop (Claire's name for her grandpop) came down from New Jersey for a nice visit last week.  Almost as soon as they walked in the door, Claire had them reading to her as she showed them all of her favorite things.  And so it went for a few days.  Read, read, read.  Play, play, play.  Love, love, love.

Oh how that girl loves her Nana and Pipop!

I came down with a stomach bug the last day or so of their visit and luckily it left as quickly as it came.  Two nights later I found myself in bed with a babe who was having a lot of trouble getting settled.  She woke at 3am and vomited, and continued to do so until about 7am.  I've said it before, and I imagine I will continue to for a long time: nothing makes me feel like a mother more than mothering my girl when she is feeling unwell.  I changed her into clean pajamas twice before deciding we were gonna stick to diapers and towels, and held her as she heaved and then fell quickly to sleep on my chest (over and over again), so so tired of all that work her little body was doing at such wee hours.

Mike got home from work at 7:30am and we all got into my car and headed to Virginia.  Yes, I know.  That doesn't quite sound right.   I must be getting story lines crossed, right?  No.  Mike was purchasing a small pickup from someone 2 hours away and that morning, despite the sickly baby girl, was the most opportune time for us to make the trip to get it.

Not ideal, of course.  I was exhausted and clearly Claire was not up for a road trip.

But we made it~  the truck was pretty much just what Mike was looking for, and after a little paper signing and hand shaking we were on our way back home.  (He found the truck on craigslist and we were a little surprised when we discovered the seller was all of 17- in fact his grandpa even had to go get him out of Spanish class so he could meet us to complete the transaction.  Ha!)

Sleepy eyed, I grabbed some coffee to help keep me awake on the drive home and Claire slept most of the way, as she had on the way there, as we followed papa in his new (old) truck.

That coffee, by the way, came from Starbucks.  Generally I am NOT a fan of Starbucks for multiple reasons, but that morning it seemed like the best option.  The girl looked at me like I had two heads when I ordered a small and a medium coffee to go.  Okay, I know.  It's Starbucks.  I'm supposed to say I want a tall and a grande to go.  Or is it a venti?  I don't know.  Maybe I'm unsophisticated.  Possibly I'm just too stubborn to give in to silly coffee lingo pressure.  The coffee, (since I'm already rambling here) though hot and caffeinated and therefore fitting the bill, left a lot to be desired.  It tasted burnt.  And not in the way that some people think very strong coffee tastes burnt, because I'm used to that.  I like strong coffee.  This tasted burnt in a "that coffee is burnt" way.  Oh, and they don't have butter for their bagels. I actually laughed out loud when she told me.  Because I guess I kinda thought she was joking.  But no.  It was for real.  Why sell bagels if you don't have butter? (is what I wanted to say)  Instead, I put on my non-whining grown-up hat and thanked her for the cream cheese.

I am done complaining about Starbucks now.

I suppose I just really like my small local coffee shop.

tearing it up

Despite my efforts to remember to keep it in perspective, the itch to knock some of the bigger things off of our home to-do list has been kicking up a lot these days.  And so, awesome guy that he is, a few days ago Mike ripped out the old kitchen floor~ a crumbling grayish-beige "faux brick" linoleum that was glued down over plywood.

Under it, was this:

An aged and well loved pine floor that was once painted brick red.  We think it's in pretty good shape, with the exception of one small area with a bit of old water damage.  We knew the original pine was under there, but weren't holding our breath that it'd be in decent condition.  The plan is to get it sanded down and finish it with the same plant oil based floor finish that we have on the rest of our floors.

(and then of course to address the plaster mud, paint, counters and cabinets, but that's another day/year)

Mike decided he hadn't had enough after tearing up the old floor and headed down below to clean out the crawlspace, pulling out some old shelves and paint cans and some pallets covered in globs of a suspicious looking dark brownish red mold.....  mmmmm.  That mold is just one of the many reasons (energy efficiency, being able to use our crawlspace for storage, etc...) that we are preparing to seal the crawlspace ourselves. (here I use the term "ourselves" loosely... I will most certainly help and get down and dirty, but it will likely be he who does most of the work, I know)  So, if you're in the area and are itching to come out and get nasty with us for a day or two, give me a shout!

That papa is one mighty hard worker, I tell you what.  Two big things crossed off the list in a few hours~

a new ride

Shortly after Claire was born we were lucky to inherit a child's bike seat.  It sat in our storage shed for over a year and just the other day Mike kindly mounted it onto my bike.

A neglected bike that had not been used for many, many years.  I bought it (instead of a computer, like most of my friends) with my high school graduation money about 13 years ago and treated it well and used it quite often for a few years.  And then it sat.

And sat.

Hopefully now it will see much more regular use.  I swapped out the hard, narrow seat for a nice cushy one, got some road tires and plan to add a nice little basket.  Because surely with a nice little basket on it I will be tempted to ride it into town often to fill said nice little basket with wonderful things like library books, croissants from the bakery, and other generally great items as Claire and I ride around town and beyond exploring and laughing with the sunshine on our shoulders.  Right?  Yes, right.

I haven't taken her for a spin in it yet.  She and Mike rode to the post office and back up the greenway and he tells me that she waved at their shadows along the way, saying "Hi Claire, hi papa".


She's pretty into shadows lately.

NOT like riding a bike

It seems that knitting, for me, is not like riding a bicycle.  Not when 8 or 9 months pass between projects.

I cast on to make a new pair of legwarmers (the old ones still work, though they're a bit short) for Claire.  And then I pulled it all apart.  I repeated that sequence of trying and failing 5, maybe 6 times before I finally got it right.  Those double-pointed needles always make me feel like Edward Scissorhands at first, and then I had too many stitches, and then too few,  and then an odd number instead of the even that I needed for the ribbing, and then I dropped some stitches and thought it'd be easier to start over than to try and fix it.

But then I got it.  And I now have about 2 inches of one red legwarmer.

Fingers crossed, I now bravely move forward.

blooming, remembering

My late grandma Helen's (that's her on the left, with my grandfather) Christmas cactus bloomed this week~  it is a small and fragile looking little plant that I've been tending with care since I got it as a cutting from my father a couple years ago.

She died when I was in middle school.  My memories of her are mostly of our visits up to their cabin in the Adirondacks.   First at their big old white house on the lake and then later, after they sold the house, at the cabin they built across the street.  My cousins and I dropping cold, snowy mittens and hats on the basement floor near a heater and running up the stairs for hot chocolate.  Bonfires in the backyard.  The annual hot air balloon festival nearby.  Buying beef jerky at Oscar's.  Driving up towards Lake Placid along the Keane river and stopping at all sorts of little places along the way.  The way my dad would make games out of who could spot the first deer on our drive up, offering us a dollar if we saw one before he did.  The way he'd pull over and let me climb on the boulders that were off the side of the thruway. Getting eaten by blackflies in May and June.  Picking wild strawberries on the little hill between their big old house and the lake.  Going horseback riding, and swimming in the lake across the street in the summer. 

 I also remember their condo in Florida (we lived in Florida at the time) where they often spent the winter.  We'd drive around to see the lights and there was a house nearby that made a huge deal out of Christmas decorations and people would park and pay to go inside and see all of their decorations and trains.  They had a huge santa and reindeer statue out front.  At least it was huge to me then.  But mostly when I think of them in Florida, I remember my grandma's mushroom soup that she made every Christmas Eve.  We'd break holy bread together and pass it around, then pile mashed potatoes into the soup and eat it.  I loved that soup.  I haven't had it in at least two decades.

I'm going to have to give my grandpa a call for the recipe.  It's about time, I'd say.

All that, in a little cactus.

PaMa

I've been keeping a running list of all the funny, witty, unbelievable, and otherwise wonderful things that are coming out of Claire's mouth lately.  I keep thinking of turning it into a post but then I add more to it and so it sits in draft-land for now.  Over at one of my favorite blogs, Live Free, (hope you don't mind, Nichole!) the smart blogger keeps a separate page for just this sorta thing.  Maybe some day I'll figure something like that out, too.

Anyway, one of my favorites lately is "PaMa".  When the three of us are all hanging out together and she's busy going back and forth between her papa and I, she often gets confused and calls one of us "PaMa".  Then she stops.  Just for a second.  And she corrects herself, addressing whichever one of us she's with at the moment.

I LOVE it.

chopping, stacking, planting, tending....

Yesterday was a bright fall day and we found ourselves outside for a good part of it.  Preparing our yard and it's inhabitants for the cooler days to come and whittling away at the wood pile, so as to help prepare ourselves as well.

We both had our coffee outside with us as we worked on various tasks after breakfast and I couldn't resist taking the photo of Mike working in the background with his "Boss" mug perched up on the fence post.  It was his grandfather's mug and after he passed away Mike requested it.  It is almost always the one he chooses.  

At first I just thought it was kind of a cute picture, but then as I placed my own mug on a tree stump while I was shoveling mulch, I laughed as I noticed that it too had something to say.  "Mother".  And so Mike snapped a similar shot of me working with my mug in the foreground.

Neither of us said whether or not we really thought one or the other was the boss.

I dreamed a little about turning this outbuilding into a larger and fabulous chicken coop.  Adding to our flock.  Maybe adding a duck.  Or two.  Probably two.  I suppose you can't just get one.  But I know nothing of ducks so that's just a guess.

The girls explored the yard a bit while Wolife was inside.  I'd love to have them roaming the yard freely all the time.  But I also like them alive.  So there's that to consider as well.

Mike added an entrance-reducer to the beehive to help keep any unwanted intruders out.  We suspected that they may have been getting robbed a bit.  Perhaps.  Mostly we are just novice beekeepers trying our best to keep our bees healthy and stack the odds in their favor as we head into winter.

mmmmmmmmm. raspberries.  We planted a dozen this year and eight or so are thriving so we hope to have a nice established bed next year.  We also planted a few dozen strawberries that have spread nicely and will be split to fill an additional bed, two heirloom apple trees that are doing well, and two (small) fig trees.  We hope to get several blueberry bushes into the ground before it gets too cold.  Our yard is small.   But if things go our way it will be small and fruity.  And maybe even bread/pizza oven-y.  Maybe.  

That's kinda far down on the list though.  Priorities and all.

We planted our garlic, choosing the best of our own bulbs and some from a friend's farm~

I sat by the peas and told them how well I thought they were doing and that they should really keep it up.

Today I stopped by a farmer's market/nursery in town looking for some kale starts and came away with seeds instead.  I sowed a flat of kale, spinach and arugula, watered it in, brought it inside and crossed my fingers.  I've never started seeds this late, but we are planning a small hoop-house for one of our beds so they just might make it.  I'd be quite pleased to be eating fresh greens from the back yard all winter.



*here are some references shared with me by a local bread baker (farmandsparrow.com) for building back yard bread/pizza ovens:

The Pompei Oven- http://www.fornobravo.com/pompeii_oven/pompeii_oven.html

I've never tried this but it looks interesting. Based on Mediterranean bread ovens.

The Alan Scott Oven Book (my old teacher) - http://www.amazon.com/Bread-Builders-Hearth-Loaves-Masonry/dp/1890132055/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1320007971&sr=8-1

This is the most common brick oven design, scaled for backyard pizza and bread baking.

The Cob Oven- http://www.amazon.com/Build-Your-Own-Earth-Oven/dp/096798467X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1320008014&sr=1-1

This one is the easiest to build but least durable

wood update

I chopped some fire wood today.  Not much.  Maybe a total of about 15 or 20 pieces (as in 15 or 20 being the total outcome, not 15 large logs).

Still, it felt really good.

Mike and I both finished reading The Dirty Life by Kristin Kimball last week and I thoroughly enjoyed the read and came away inspired.  Inspired to do more hard chores, inspired to think about the possibility of one day doing something useful with some of my grandfather's land up in the Adirondacks, inspired to keep chipping away at the little things that we do around here to try to make our 1/3 acre lot feel just a teeny tiny bit like a homestead.

Next up, I'm gonna get the mister to teach me to run the chainsaw.  We have an apple stump that needs to be leveled and I figure that's a good place to start.

Chainsaws and splitting wood.  Such a lady.