October 10, 2008

snapshots

October 10, 2008/ molly balint

This is Tiger. Dan calls him"Soup", I guess in keeping with the food names we have for the other cats, "Orange Juice", "Blueberry"....He showed up on our farm right after we moved in, sneaking in meals with our other kittens. No one has made contact with yet, except for Emma. But he's getting braver and braver, now even coming up to the porch to sleep on the cushions. Lately, he's been sitting outside the kitchen window on a bench. It's right outside where I sit at the kitchen table, writing, cooking. Yesterday, after much contemplation, Tiger and I made contact. A little crab dip on my finger didn't hurt things either.

What we do with the leftover cardboard. I can't tell you how much entertainment this provided. Simple joys.

Trying to do something with the abundance of unknown pears growing in the orchard in the back corner or our farm. They are tough-skinned and hard as rocks. I cored and peeled them, then stewed them in a simple sugar syrup, thanks to some help from The Joy of Cooking. Much better now.

Moments before Emma's pony decided to throw his head forward, again, sending Emma flipping over his head and flopping on to the ground. My friend, Sarah, whose daughter rides in the same lesson, said it was good I didn't see it. Emma tried hard not to cry, but by the time she got back on, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Of course I wanted to jump in there and check on her and rescue her, but I didn't. She went on the trail ride, came back on a different pony, but came back happy. She's a tough little girl.

The swing. The big swing.

Happy Weekend, friends.

October 06, 2008

a worthwhile detour

October 06, 2008/ molly balint

Who knew an impromptu trip to the pet store could work out so well for me?

This morning the girls and I were headed to the library so I could deal with some issues--my last large bag of library books, which I returned last week never showed up as "checked in" on my account. Thankfully, I know which librarian it was--the grumpy one with really strong perfume, I wrote a check to pay my fines, (Yes, I write checks sometimes to pay for our library fines. Just doing what I can to support the local library.) and I knew exactly which books I had returned.

But at some point along the drive, Emma asked if we could please go to the pet store. I get this request several times a week, and I always turn it down. But you know how sometimes, you say no so many times in a row, for no particular reason, that finally, you just have to say yes.

So I did my library business at the drive-in window and we detoured to the much longed-for pet store.

We wandered the aisles. I let the girls stand, faces plastered against all the cages and tanks. I answered questions, I said no to every request for dog treats and cat toys--I left my wallet in the car. And then finally, we left...three red-faced, weeping girls dragging along with me out to the parking lot.

You might be wondering how this could have possibly turned out well for me, but just wait. It gets better.

Elizabeth was crying because I had to peel her pudgy fingers off the cage bars of the gerbils. Emma was crying because she had already named, and grown emotionally invested with one honey-colored hamster, and dear Mary was crying because she just wanted another plecostomus.

At first, I began my mother diatribe about how "I was going to remember this next time they asked to visit the pet store." And, "you have four kittens, six chicks and five guineas to love and take care of at home.", etc. etc. None of it was doing any good. None of it was doing anything to stop the wailing in the back of the car.

But then my wheels started turning. I remembered that I was in the process of establishing a chore system with the girls and thinking about letting them begin to earn an allowance. So we spent the rest of the trip home discussing these new ideas.

I still don't have all the kinks worked out in my system yet, but all the girls heard was DO CHORES + EARN MONEY = BUY THE HAMSTER/PLECOSTOMUS MYSELF!!

The conversation in the car immediately took a turn. From Mary, "Mom I promise I will never make you angry again. Mom. I promise I will always clean up after myself, even when I don't really want to. Mom. What chores do you want me to finish when I get home? Mom. I promise you are the best mom I've ever heard of."

From Emma: "Mom, I'm going to make my bed, clean the whole downstairs, mop the kitchen floor, and clean Elizabeth's room when we get home. How much money do I need to get a hamster? I already have about sixty dollars, I think. (she has maybe, three.) I'm guessing by like next week, no the end of this week, I'll be going back to get my hamster."

We got home and they barreled out of the car. By the time Elizabeth and I got inside, they were tying aprons on each other, talking like Laura and Mary Ingalls, and heading upstairs to make their beds. I just stood back and let the magic happen. They made their beds, picked up laundry and brought it to the washing machine, picked up the bathroom floor, washed the windows in their room. Emma cleaned Elizabeth's room and laid out a diaper and PJs for naps. Mary picked up her toys in the hallway, and even carried things back downstairs to their proper place. (that never happens!)

It was like having a team of merry maids arrive in my home. It was a beautiful, beautiful thing. Brings a tear to my eye. Finally, when they began plans to clean out a closet I pulled back on the reins and brought them back into their room for a talk.

I told them how happy I was, and told them I would work on a system so that we could keep this kind of thing up, and yes, they'd be able to earn a little money in order to save up for their pets. I gave them each fifty cents for their enthusiasm and we called it a day.

I'll let you know when I figure out my system. But for now, I'm still enjoying the post-pet store high. We might just have to go back tomorrow.

September 04, 2008

The things I'd be blogging about if I could find three quiet minutes in a row

September 04, 2008/ molly balint

Preface: This post has absolutely no inspirational value. Unless of course you find inspiration in stories about chicken hawks, homeschooling pity-parties, and bits about my laundry. Sorry.

++The chicks have taken over the downstairs bathroom and the guineas are outside in a movable wire pen that sits on a grassy spot in the yard. Yesterday I heard them making a huge racket and since I was upstairs with a naked baby, I sent Emma outside to see what was happening until I could get out there. There on the ground beside the pen was a large Red-Tailed Hawk harassing the guineas and causing them to run laps around the inside of their pen in sheer terror. The hawk was absolutely resolute about the whole ordeal. Emma walked right up to him, with just the pen between them. He didn't fly until she really started flapping around and saying "very mean things to him".

I came out moments later after watching it all from the window, to see that he had simply flown to a small tree beside the pen, no doubt waiting for this annoyance of humans to disappear. So, being the quick-thinker that I am, I pulled the big oilcloth tablecloth off my picnic table(the beautiful one from Beth) and began flapping and slapping it around at him until he moved on....to a taller tree just over the guinea's cage. He hasn't been back, but I feel like I may be sending my poor guineas to their death the day they are allowed to roam free in the yard.

++Homeschooling Day 2 was "throw in the towel, put 'em on the bus to school" hard. The first day was marked by Emma saying, "Next year I'm going to real school" every five minutes until she finally asked if she was hurting my feelings. Day 2 was marked by grumpiness, bickering siblings, things being spilled, nothing being accomplished, slamming doors, tears (mine, theirs), naps for everyone, and babies falling off tables.

I suppose every year has its challenges--last year it was lack of space. This year it is Elizabeth. She is the most curious (that's me putting a rosy glow on it) of all my children, a climber, a get-into-everything child. Emma and I sit at a long bench at the dining room table and I spend the whole time removing her from top of the table, and putting her down on the floor. Elizabeth, no. Elizabeth, no. Elizabeth, no.

She brings us tiny counting chips in her mouth and spits them out in our hands. She bites the tops off of Emma's new crayons and brings us the leftover nub. She gives me "quiet" by going into the kitchen, sliding the chair over to the table, climbing up on the table and digging her chubby fists into the boxes of cereal, turning them upside down to get out more and "drinking" the glasses of orange juice left there by mistake. Drinking involves 25% of the juice down her front, 75% of the juice on my kitchen floor--which I now know has a nice little sweet spot smack in the middle where all the juice pools.

++I've had the same load of laundry on the clothes line for three days. This will be day 4 if it doesn't come down by midnight. Upon typing this, it occurred to me that the clothes pins and clothes will by now be taken over by a large population of spiders who find my clothes line the perfect foundation for web-building. The last time this happened the large red striped spider that I brushed (more like a spastic swat) off the clothesline showed up five minutes later on my right shoulder. I almost de-shirted in the yard, I was so freaked out that I didn't get him off. Great.

++This one's good. Emily and I met for dinner Tuesday night outside Baltimore. We live so close to each other, I love it. You know how when you meet great people blogging and you say to yourself, "Why can't this person live near me? I know we'd be fast friends?" I'm lucky enough to say that I've met a kindred spirit in Emily. Before we knew it, we'd been sitting there so long we both were desperate for the bathroom and realized it was after ten o'clock. To which we left the restaurant and then spent even more time lingering in the parking lot. Next date? Dansko outlet and dinner at Thomas Run--children and husbands allowed.

++This one is also good. Lisa Leonard sent me two beautiful treasures in the mail recently. I was going to share them today, but I don't want to throw their beauty in with all this whining. But let me just preview it all by saying that I love it, I love it, I love it. And the other thing she sent is now going to be my standard issue baby gift--a simple, classic. Stay tuned.

I leave you (if you're still here) with some words of wisdom from my husband, who reminded me last night that things worth doing are usually worth quitting, too. I'm not throwing in the homeschooling towel yet. I liken it to my newborn analogy--those days after the blissful first days are sometimes crazy, you feel like you're losing your mind, how did I get myself into this, when will I ever find a moment's peace, etc. etc. And then the next thing you know, you've found your groove again, your rhythm, and you wonder how you'd ever live your life other than the way it is right now. You can't imagine it any other way. I'm looking forward to that time. I'm hoping it comes soon.

Thank you for listening, or rolling your eyes, or yawning and rubbing your eyes, but making it to this point.

I guess I found my three minutes.

++++++++++
Momformation posts here & here, & here, & here

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August 27, 2008

focus on the positive

August 27, 2008/ molly balint

Tonight I was sitting at the kitchen table with the windows open and I overheard Dan outside talking to the girls. He was asking who had left certain things out from yesterday, why there was a set of my cups in the backyard, had someone watered the boxwoods, etc. etc. While he talked to the girls I winced, knowing that these were things I hadn't gotten to today. But I also thought, "Did you notice that I sorted through FOUR tubs of baby clothes in the guest room, got three loads of laundry done, and all the books returned to the library?"

I share this little snippet of our life not at all to imply that my husband is some grumpy, ungrateful man that comes home grumbling and complaining about all the things that didn't get accomplished that day. Because that is so far from reality. And even in this overheard moment he was more asking questions versus laying blame.

I share this story because I realized as I was overhearing Dan that he sounded a lot like me.

All too often, I walk into a situation, whether it be with Dan or with the girls, and completely miss the important stuff. I find all my focus and attention and words drawn to the negatives--the mess I'll be cleaning later, instead of the amazing creative play that is going on in their room, stripped of all bed sheets, pillows and blankets. The chaos of loud laughing and running through the house, instead of the joy of my children having fun together. The annoyance of my oldest daughter wanting to help with her baby sister's bath instead of seeing how much she loves taking care of Elizabeth.

I often do it when I return to the house after a solo outing and Dan stays with the girls. "Couldn't you have at least cleared the dishes from the kitchen table?!" Instead of noticing that he has all three girls sitting on his lap on the sofa reading picture books.

Really what is most important? A good reminder for me tonight.

The picture is a quick shot of our bedroom corner with the new headboard finally painted and in place. Can I tell you how much I love having a headboard? And how much I love seeing the handiwork of my husband all over the house? The bedside table, also his work--made for me as a birthday gift several years ago. The date and year are written on the inside of the drawer.

July 28, 2008

32

July 28, 2008/ molly balint

Saturday was my 32nd birthday. I thought about giving you a list of "32 things on my 32nd birthday". But I did that two years ago. So instead, I used a little quiet time that my husband gave me on my birthday to finally finish my About Page and give this blog a little makeover for the final weeks of summer.

There are new books in the sidebar for me and the girls, and a link to take you directly to my Bushel and Peck posts on Momformation. And thank you to Cassi for featuring my "watercolor blobs" on The Crafty Crow last week. I feel honored to see that little badge in my sidebar because goodness knows I really wanted one! I took away the "good things" links, for now. I'll freshen them up a bit and bring them back shortly.

The About Page is inspired by a post where I asked you all to ask me anything. And boy did you ever! Obviously I couldn't (and didn't want to) answer all the questions, but I picked a few of my favorites and answered them as best I could. If my blog traffic takes a downward turn I'll know that I've either completely turned you off with my answers or I've told you everything and there's nothing new you could possibly learn from me at this point. Ha! Ha?

Sweet little Mary drew me this picture on my birthday. We sat together out in the yard, me reading a magazine, her drawing beside me. I'd say things to her like, "You forgot eyeballs!" Or "where are everyone's arms?" and she'd quickly add them in. Apparently this picture is all of us marching through the farmers' market.

It's funny when I look at this picture because I could probably pull an almost exact replica out of my stash of Emma's early work. And I have to confess, poor second child that she is, I haven't been saving much of Mary's work. I feel like I've had this pathetic (internal) "yeah, yeah, I've seen those kind of drawing before. I'll start saving them when they get better, kid!" kind of horrible attitude in my head.

But no more. I'm cherishing these sweet little drawings. Let the collection begin.

I have two things that I want to buy myself for my birthday. The first I got this morning--two sets of Moleskine journals--one set of thin notebook sized, the other a small pack of pocket-sized journals. In my old age, I find that I'm forgetting lots of things. I've always been a list-maker, a genetic trait I inherited from my mother. And I've been kind of ADD with my list notebook this year. I have about three going at the same time, I can usually only find one of them, which is the one I'm NOT looking for at the time. So I decided to consolidate into these moleskines, one-at-a-time.

The small journals are to stash in my back pocket. I've gotten in the habit of jotting down writing ideas or stories on scrap pieces of paper--a receipt, a piece of the girls' (probably Mary's) artwork that been tossed aside. And then, I lose them. Of course.

Or horror of horrors, send them down the library book return shoot. I had written a kind of personal, introspective note on a receipt, which I then tucked in the book I was reading and literally had to dive in after it up to my shoulder, as I saw the little tail of it slipping down the library book return. Phew.

So I think keeping my thoughts in my back pocket is a bit safer.