Body Modification

Well, today all three of my daughters got their ears pierced. This was not such a big deal to me, I've had my ears pierced for years and don't feel strongly one way or the other about it. It was a bit of a big deal to my husband (who also had pierced ears, for a while anyway), for whom the whole body modification process seemed to imply an arrival at a certain maturity, which is dubious in the case of most if not all of our offspring. In other words, I said: "sure!" and he said: "uh--". This morning, after he got the treat of telling our seven year old that she was indeed allowed to go with her sisters and get her ears pierced (joy!) the female members of our family loaded ourselves into the van and headed for the local mall where a very frou-frou store (Claires) offers ear piercing services.

Nobody cried. Not even mom.

Christmas

Well, it's that time of year again. The time of year when I think I have everything ready for The Big Day but there is so much sneaky work left to do I end up feeling like I will never be ready. Special occasions are a lot of work, especially when you have four children depending on you to provide the lights and magic.

It is through the stress of the season that I discover the most grace however. Feeling overwhelmed reminds me that I have a family, a lot going on, volunteering responsibilities, food to get on the table, gifts to wrap...all the things that I have that are stressing me out are the things I would miss the most if they weren't there. So I'm taking this moment in between cleaning like a dervish, trying to keep up with the ordinary clutter and getting the kids finished with their semester to reflect briefly on all the wonderful mess in my life at this time of year. Maybe I'll get a load in the wash while I'm at it.

Waiting

Today is a big day in our house. Today we're going to take out a rock that we've been shrinking and measure it. Way back at the beginning of the school year, we took a one ounce piece of limestone and put it in some vinegar. Apparently over time, the acid in the vinegar will eat away at the soft limestone, and the rock will get smaller. It doesn't look smaller. I'm really hoping that when we weigh and measure it, we will see some difference, because waiting for this experiment to mature has been an exercise in patience over a couple of months. So why did we decide to do this today? The end time of the experiment is completely arbitrary, I have just been wanting to leave it in there nice and long so that we will be sure of seeing some sort of measurable difference. Today is the big day because taking it out and sparking the interest of the kids who have been waiting to see what happens is my way of coping with waiting for Matt to get home from his latest trip to the UK. He's been gone for several days on this trip, certainly long enough for me to see some measurable difference. Not having Matt around means no one constantly running the tea kettle, producing the countless cups of tea that prompt many enjoyable conversations around our house. Somehow it is so much nicer to sit and talk about things with a cuppa something hot in your hand. Not having Matt around means that I have been in charge of teaching all the kids during our sessions of doing school at home. It is very difficult to engage big kids and little kids at the same time, and usually involves letting one group wait while the others get attention. Not having Matt around means a constant feeling of being on duty every minute. I know that feeling of being in charge is multiplied by having kids home all the time, and that if I had them on a school bus to "away school" every day I would have some time to myself. But the way we do it here really depends on two parents being around for the sanity of everyone. So today, after months of waiting for a rock to shrink, we're going to take it out of the mason jar, rinse it off and measure it to see what happened. Meanwhile, I am discovering dimensions of my relationships while waiting for everything to get back to normal around here.

Animal Planet

Somehow, the job description of "Mom" never seems to include the large and significant amount of time spent taking care of the non-human species in the family. And I don't just mean the obvious, like filling up the dog's water dish or alerting the child in charge when the litter box is getting a little ripe. I mean dealing with another child's anxiety over leaving several bunnies in their outside hutch during a mild thunderstorm, investigating another rabbit for a possible but unlikely pregnancy after discovering her diligence in making a nest in the indoor hutch, and needing to quick-a-minute rehouse tadpoles before heading off to Great-Grandma's for dinner because they might just be at a crucially sensitive point in their metamorphosis requiring access to dry land to prevent drowning. I have found that there is no "out" here other than being the kind of draconian, zero-pet-tolerance mother I never wanted to be. So here I sit, next to the happily swimming (and not drowning) tadpoles who like to hide behind the rock I found for them this afternoon, rather than sit upon it, breathing the same atmosphere as do I.

Cloth Napkins

We recently had a rummage sale at our church. I helped; so did two of our girls, one of whom was on one crutch doing a passable impression of Tiny Tim if Tiny Tim had ever voraciously bought and sold the entire contents of a used jewelry table. (Aside: I sure got a lot of jewelry this past Mother's Day). While my girls were busy with the accessories, I was over in Housewares, enjoying myself.

Now, I never thought I would have so much fun (or take home so much stuff) from the Rummage Sale, but I did. My enjoyment was centered around two things: aprons and cloth napkins. I surprised my husband into a raised eyebrow a couple of weeks ago by hanging the clothes out on the clothesline while wearing one of the aprons; the capacious pockets were too tempting as clothespins holders to pass up. And one of our goals this year was to become more sustainable as a family in terms of our paper product consumption, so the cloth napkins were irresistible as well.

I am a firm proponent of buying used products. Not only is it good to reuse things (remember your three "R"s) but it takes the guesswork out of whether something will survive the first washing. I have no idea whose home these napkins came from, but I like to imagine that it was a place where setting a gracious table and serving a good meal were a priority. So far, having the cloth napkins on the table at dinner time has been nothing but good. The kids like to pick which color we will be using on any given day and I like the virtuous glow I get from not throwing them away after the meal. Win, win.

Knitting for the Pens

Some of you may have heard of the tradition of "growing one for the team" as the Stanley Cup Playoffs progress. Well, as a woman, I don't have that option (fortunately...my husband might not be so pleased if I could participate). What I can do is knit socks.

Some people in Pittsburgh seem to have strong opinions against those who have the gall to knit during a hockey game, imagining that it implies a lack of attention, support, or complete devotion to the home hockey team. Those of us who do knit while watching hockey however, I believe, have a perfect combination of something to do which does not require a whole lot of attention (read: I can still watch the game while I knit) while still indulging our love of crafting AND spending quality time with the (ahem admittedly more devoted) hockey fan we live with.

My favorite knitting hockey fan is Michelle, who is so devoted she drives hours each way to attend games at the Igloo and won't even get up to go to the bathroom for the whole game. If that isn't sending a message to the bench, I don't know what is. And you know all those wool socks have to be great for hanging out in an arena all the time.

In honor of Michelle, and as my small contribution to hockey fandom, I'll be knitting tonight during the Penguin's game. I may have kids to get to bed, dishes to wash and other sundry things to do (laundry, for one) but you will find me parked in front of the TV this evening, watching the game, cheering on the Penguins and yes, knitting a sock.

Rose Bushes

In my fantasy life, I am a great gardener. The kind that remembers to put bulbs in in the fall, deals competently with invasively multiplying perennials and deals out a kind organic death to weeds and pests. Up till now I have had an out in the form of several little people who call me "Mom" and needed constant supervision. Now that they are getting bigger, can swing for hours at a time (OK, minutes) without breaking out into a fight or falling down and getting hurt, or even better, like to "help," I am losing my excuses for why my yard isn't a thing of beauty and a joy forever. So what am I doing on this May morning? Putting off heading outside, drinking another cup of coffee...writing this post. Sigh.

Creativity with Kids

Somehow, reading bios of successful writers who made it big while raising their families makes it sound so easy. "I kept the typewriter in the kitchen," or "after the kids were asleep I churned out a chapter or two." Or from La Roberts, "I got bored while snowed in with little kids and no chocolate." The fact that they made it at all is amazing to me. I guess I can't walk and chew gum at the same time, but when the kids are up they all talk to me. Constantly. And I can't concentrate on writing one sentence and speaking another one at the same time. By the time they get in bed at night, I'm wiped out. It seems like the only time of day I am able to be productive in this solitary, self-centered business of creative writing is early in the morning before the first little person gets up. Which, considering we have some real morning people in the family, can be pretty early. I guess the other option is to ignore the kids, pass the chores on to everyone else and pamper my inner muse.

So here's hoping I manage to get to bed on time most nights and get up when the alarm goes off.