January 23, 2012

hello again

January 23, 2012/ molly balint

This is my desk this morning.

It's actually a new little space I created for myself in the kitchen. While I try to do a few things this morning, Birdy is bringing me her stash of animals. I can hear her coming now. And she's dragging a xylophone behind her. Eventually, I'll start giving them back to her. "Back" she'll say and toddle with them back to her room. She's so meticulous. Picking up bits of trash and carrying them all the way to the kitchen trash can. Picking up her sleepers and putting them in her laundry basket. Pushing a chair under the kitchen table when she sees it out of place. I wonder how to nurture this behavior because I love it. I go a little overboard for now when she puts things where they belong. I'm hoping this will encourage her.

Today is Monday and it marks the first day of a new "adventure" for me. It's a new writing opportunity that kinda shakes out to more than just the here and there kind of freelance writing I've been doing in the past. The work will be with Babycenter but I'll have to wait a bit to get the all-clear to give more details. Sorry. I hate it when people do that. But I'm writing about it here to let you know that there are going to be some growing pains at first. It's definitely more of a commitment. More of a job now, than a hobby. But a job I'm excited about with a company and group of people I'm so happy to be part of. And, to be completely honest, a blessing for my family--somewhat flexible, work-from-home, still homeschool my children, work with great people, add to our family's income. It really is a good thing.

For now it feels a bit like bringing home a newborn. How it takes a bit to determine your new normal. Figuring out how you'll manage to still do laundry, make dinner and vaccuum the rugs, even though you have this little baby to care for. I know a routine will develop and I'll find ways to carve out time to get everything done. And I know, I'll be asking for help when I need it.

So hello and thanks for listening and that's the news from Thomas Run.

More soon, hopefully sooner...

December 29, 2011

She sews

December 29, 2011/ molly balint

Christmas gift-giving was a real challenge for me this year. Even up to the last few days before the holiday I was scrambling for ideas.

I was feeling like my kids didn't really need anything. We have plenty of toys. The baby is drowning in three sisters worth of hand-me-downs. Their rooms are totally messy which makes me even less excited to go out and buy more "things" to add to that chaos.

But my kids aren't quite at the age where they appreciate a hive of bees or a goat.

Ideally I like to have one "winner" gift. Something that will thrill their socks off and then pepper the rest of the gift-giving with little things like books, underwear, chapstick and pencils.

Finally at the very last minute this year, and thanks to an in-store phone call to my sister, inspiration arrived.

For Mary, it was actually easy--she's been begging for an (inexpensive) digital camera since the first hint of holiday decorations started appearing on store shelves. (So that's like, what? October?) And for her slightly absent-minded personality, she's handled the responsibility impressively well. The camera still works AND she knows where it is.

But Emma was a challenge. She wanted a horse-y Christmas and had things on her list like an indoor riding arena (Lord, help me.), and jockey silks. (They aren't cheap!)

She also had on this on her list at number 10: That Birdy will stay little forever.

Be still my heart. She immediately got extra points for that one.

So, as I was standing in the local Feed Mill staring at hay racks and shedding blades, nothing was inspiring me.

But in a desperate phone call to my sister and a "What are you getting your kids?" conversation, I hung up the phone with a plan.

My girl was ready for her own sewing machine.

If you've caught any of my whining around these parts, we've been without a sewing machine in this house for almost three years. I've been borrowing and begging which is no fun. And Emma loves to sew.

Even with my majorly budget-minded Christmas, I was still able to get her a very basic, entry-level Singer.

I've never really given Emma specific sewing lessons. She knows the basics and nothing more. But watching her navigate the creative sewing waters is exciting.

It's like when toddlers first learn to dance. The minute they start to bop to the beat, you don't whisk them off to dance classes. There is so much creativity and growth in them learning how to swing their hips and bend at the knees. They're way more creative and free without the boundaries of proper dancing technique.

And I'm finding the same to be true with Emma's sewing. I know she knows enough to be safe. She knows that if she doesn't want her stitches to pull out she needs to do a little back-and-forth at the beginning and end. But otherwise, she is a blank slate behind the presser foot. The possibilities are endless.

I know that eventually what she wants to make will get more complicated and some instruction will be required.

But for now, my house is peppered with tiny hearts, miniature pouches and endless possibilities.

The dining room curtains and pleated skirts can wait....

December 12, 2011

7 Tips for taking a perfect family Christmas card photo

December 12, 2011/ molly balint

1. Take your photograph when your children are well-fed and rested. (Not right after church when the baby is looong overdue for a nap and everyone's low-blood sugar is resulting in impatience and grumpiness.)

2. Make sure your husband is well-fed. (Because you'll need his help to wrangle babies, arrange children, shoo chickens, and hold ponies. And if he's hungry {see above}, he'll give up on your perfect holiday photo shoot way too quickly.

3. Find a clean, white pony to add something unique and meaningful to your family's photo. (Preferrably not one that was rolling in her muddy field just as you are all walking outside to take pictures.)

4. Make sure your children are well-groomed and bathed. (or else they'll be wearing handknits in all the pictures to cover up)

5. Drain all tubs of standing water. (Because you know the baby will find them. And while you're directing the brushing of the pony and making sure noone gets stomped on by the same nervous pony, the baby will find the water and be up to her elbows in it before you turn back around.)

6. Lock in the chickens. (They distract the photographer.)

7. Remember that one of the things you love most about your family is that it's big, crazy and chaotic. But every once in awhile, you get a glimpse of almost-perfection. And there among the five hundred wacky outtakes, there'll be one that captures just that.

December 09, 2011

jiggetty-jog

December 09, 2011/ molly balint

Hello.

I have ten minutes to write this post. I'm sitting in the play area of our brand-spanking new Wegman's grocery store. Birdy and Elizabeth are happy at the train table, Mary and Emma are just a few blocks away, having their piano lessons. I was supposed to have more time sitting here to write and enjoy the free wifi, but I got bogged down in the toothbrushes when all I really needed was a gallon of milk and a pound of coffee beans. Isn't that always the case?

But I'm determined to be here this morning. I've opened up the "compose" window every day this week.

I'm home from New York City. It was a fantastic weekend. I was so glad to have my mom with me. We had such a fun time together. Navigating train stations and taxi fares. We dealt with overwhelming problems like where to have lunch and which store to shop in first--Purl or Fishs Eddy (thanks, Erin for turning me on to that one!) She lounged in the hotel room, and dined leisurely in the hotel restaurant, while I zipped from premieres to broadway. Tough weekend, huh?

I ate the best dessert I've ever had. Would I ever think I'd use the word orgasmic on my blog, let alone to describe a dessert? No, but there. I just did. It was. And now I'm blushing.

The movie was fantastic. One of those movies I really need to see again to take it all in one more time. To see it without seeing it through so many tears. Woah, the tears. It's a killer. I was a bit bummed that it doesn't seem to be one for younger kids (I was hoping I could take Emma). It definitely falls in the young adult category. Or it would make a great movie to see with your husband. There's lots of animal drama. That's tough for children.

I also got to step inside the home of my great-great grandmother. A beautiful tall, narrow townhouse on banker's row. Now a preserved landmark, nestled between highrises just like The Little House. Today it serves the unromantic role as a store front full of discount name brands. I'm not sure what my great-great-grandmother would say about the five foot square poster of a teen dressed in short-shorts and fur, dangling from her living room wall. I was scolded for taking pictures inside the building. But I explained my history and was given full photographic access.

Going away was wonderful, yes. I felt a bit like my life was on hold until I got the trip behind me. Now, I'm really looking forward to settling in for the rest of the advent season. I'm ready to slow the pace down a bit. And hunker down.

So happy weekend friends. Here's to slowing down and enjoying the rest of the season.

It's good to be home.

November 08, 2011

A warmer heart

November 08, 2011/ molly balint

I've got a new sidekick when it comes to morning chores.

I can't even utter the word "outside" unless I have her completely bundled. Otherwise, I'll be attempting to dress, shoe and bundle a baby squirming and wailing at the mudroom door, eager to break free from her indoor jail.

Some days, we can't even be bothered with shoes. I'm lucky if I can get a sweater over her head and a hat secured under her chin before she's pushing through the door.

She often brings her morning banana. I try not to think about where and how many times it is dropped. And what bits of dirt and whoknowswhat that cling to it. Or which animals she's offered a lick before taking another tiger-sized bite off the end.

Instead of lugging her on my hip, we've discovered the garden cart makes a pretty convenient way to trek back and forth to the chicken coop.

I put her on the concrete pad in front of the coop while I work.

She sits in the pile of chicken feed like it was a sandbox created just for her. The hens eye her cautiously, pecking around her, as she tries to feed them from her chubby palms. This must be why the hens follow her around so closely. They know she offers food.

I collect eggs, check on the babies, freshen up water, and throw clumps of soft, fresh green grass into their pen.

When we cross back over the little wooden bridge on the way home, she is thrilled by the water running under our feet. I'm amazed at her ability to perch on the very edge of the bridge, crouched down, babbling at the water. I miss that kind of flexibility and balance. She's telling me a lot of things about that little stream. I talk back to her like I understand every word.

Eventually, I convince her there's more to see on the other side of the bridge. But before she hits that slippery, muddy patch, I swoop her up and plop her back in our farmer's stroller.

Her favorite friend blocks our path with a croquet ball in her mouth. A leaf dangles from her lips. She's relentless.

If I'd let her, she'd stay out here all day. The only way I can coax her back inside is to bring the dog and a small furry kitten with me. She finally follows, waving goodbye to the crowd of animals gathered around her, like the queen of the animal kingdom.

I peel off layers, wipe her runny nose and notice her muddy sleeper-feet. And she's gone again. Disappearing into the belly of the house. Following the dog. Calling for her sisters. And I'm left to hang up sweaters, shove hats back in the basket and pry the barn boots from my feet.