We will always remember that after a month of first steps, she really learned to walk on Joe's 30th birthday!
bearing witness to the fleeting moments of growing two little girls, an edible backyard, a baby-to-be, chickens, and a novel
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Dove il Coop: A Creation Story
On the morning of first day, the coop creator said, "Let there be chickens in our backyard." His wife said, "No way, Jose."
On the afternoon of the first day, the coop creator's wife said, "Let there be chickens in our backyard?" The coop creator smirked, and said, "You have such good ideas."
On the second day, the coop creator and his wife gathered. He gathered wood from three sketchy Craig's List postings flung far across the metro. The coop creator's wife scoured the worldwide web in search of coop design plans, pointers, and pictures.
Thusly prepared, on the third day, the coop creator and his wife designed the coop.
On the morning of the fifth day, the coop creator said, "Let there be four chickens in our backyard." The coop creator's wife said, "That is too many. Let there be three."
On the afternoon of the fifth day, the coop creator's wife said, "let there be five chickens." The coop creator smiled, and found a farm in Wisconsin with beautiful chickens for sale.
On the sixth day, the coop creator and his daughter brought home two Rhode Island Reds, two White Rocks, and one Black Sexlink.
Today, on the seventh day, the coop creator says, "Look at the coop I've created. We'll call it Dove il Coop. It is good... sure it could always use more finishing touches and tinkering... but..."
Today we rest with our chickens.
On the afternoon of the first day, the coop creator's wife said, "Let there be chickens in our backyard?" The coop creator smirked, and said, "You have such good ideas."
On the second day, the coop creator and his wife gathered. He gathered wood from three sketchy Craig's List postings flung far across the metro. The coop creator's wife scoured the worldwide web in search of coop design plans, pointers, and pictures.
Thusly prepared, on the third day, the coop creator and his wife designed the coop.
- 3.5' X 7' floor plan takes full advantage of a 4' X 8' sheet of plywood for the roof.
- 1' square nesting boxes are set 1' off the ground and 3/4 of the way outside of the coop. A hinged door makes the eggs easily accessible without entering the chicken run.
- 1 giant door at one end should make feeding the chickens and cleaning out the coop easy.
- ventilation holes drilled on the North and South walls will allow for ventilation without over-exposure
- a window reinforced with several layers of chicken wire will allow for a breeze, but can close for security
- the floor is layered with heavy gage wire and the whole thing is up on cinder blocks to thwart predators
On the morning of the fifth day, the coop creator said, "Let there be four chickens in our backyard." The coop creator's wife said, "That is too many. Let there be three."
On the afternoon of the fifth day, the coop creator's wife said, "let there be five chickens." The coop creator smiled, and found a farm in Wisconsin with beautiful chickens for sale.
On the sixth day, the coop creator and his daughter brought home two Rhode Island Reds, two White Rocks, and one Black Sexlink.
Today, on the seventh day, the coop creator says, "Look at the coop I've created. We'll call it Dove il Coop. It is good... sure it could always use more finishing touches and tinkering... but..."
Today we rest with our chickens.
Dove il Coop: A Creation Story
On the morning of first day, the coop creator said, "Let there be chickens in our backyard." His wife said, "No way, Jose."
On the afternoon of the first day, the coop creator's wife said, "Let there be chickens in our backyard?" The coop creator smirked, and said, "You have such good ideas."
On the second day, the coop creator and his wife gathered. He gathered wood from three sketchy Craig's List postings flung far across the metro. The coop creator's wife scoured the worldwide web in search of coop design plans, pointers, and pictures.
Thusly prepared, on the third day, the coop creator and his wife designed the coop.
On the morning of the fifth day, the coop creator said, "Let there be four chickens in our backyard." The coop creator's wife said, "That is too many. Let there be three."
On the afternoon of the fifth day, the coop creator's wife said, "let there be five chickens." The coop creator smiled, and found a farm in Wisconsin with beautiful chickens for sale.
On the sixth day, the coop creator and his daughter brought home two Rhode Island Reds, two White Rocks, and one Black Sexlink.
Today, on the seventh day, the coop creator says, "Look at the coop I've created. We'll call it Dove il Coop. It is good... sure it could always use more finishing touches and tinkering... but..."
Today we rest with our chickens.
On the afternoon of the first day, the coop creator's wife said, "Let there be chickens in our backyard?" The coop creator smirked, and said, "You have such good ideas."
On the second day, the coop creator and his wife gathered. He gathered wood from three sketchy Craig's List postings flung far across the metro. The coop creator's wife scoured the worldwide web in search of coop design plans, pointers, and pictures.
Thusly prepared, on the third day, the coop creator and his wife designed the coop.
- 3.5' X 7' floor plan takes full advantage of a 4' X 8' sheet of plywood for the roof.
- 1' square nesting boxes are set 1' off the ground and 3/4 of the way outside of the coop. A hinged door makes the eggs easily accessible without entering the chicken run.
- 1 giant door at one end should make feeding the chickens and cleaning out the coop easy.
- ventilation holes drilled on the North and South walls will allow for ventilation without over-exposure
- a window reinforced with several layers of chicken wire will allow for a breeze, but can close for security
- the floor is layered with heavy gage wire and the whole thing is up on cinder blocks to thwart predators
On the morning of the fifth day, the coop creator said, "Let there be four chickens in our backyard." The coop creator's wife said, "That is too many. Let there be three."
On the afternoon of the fifth day, the coop creator's wife said, "let there be five chickens." The coop creator smiled, and found a farm in Wisconsin with beautiful chickens for sale.
On the sixth day, the coop creator and his daughter brought home two Rhode Island Reds, two White Rocks, and one Black Sexlink.
Today, on the seventh day, the coop creator says, "Look at the coop I've created. We'll call it Dove il Coop. It is good... sure it could always use more finishing touches and tinkering... but..."
Today we rest with our chickens.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
A Joyful Gene?
For the past few years, new research from several fields has begun to suggest that genetics plays an important role in the extent to which we are happy.
As a generally happy person (too happy - even when externally complaining I am internally thinking, "this sure feels good to complain"), this strikes me as good news.
It gives me hope that I have not simply taught my 3-year-old to revel in the joys of childhood. She is actually biologically designed to be the most enthusiastic participant in any group or any game, even among other happy kids.
At almost-30, I can assure her that the urge to nudge the person next to me on any given day and say, "isn't this great!" doesn't fade even when you add two kids and routinely subtract about 3 hours of necessary sleep.
For others in my life, those that are ritualistically dissatisfied, I
imagine this news is, not surprisingly, depressing. These folks are bored, annoyed, or pissed off by nearly all circumstances of their lives, even great achievements because they are invariably linked to unexpected inconveniences.
This crowd faces a truly uphill battle to attain the ever-popular life goal of "happiness," if much of their consistent malaise is not linked to the infamous personal storm cloud hovering overhead but rather to the crabby pants of a misunderstood Great-Aunt Fern.
More importantly, though, if "happiness" is a genetic gift that some of us revel in while running barefoot through the muddy paths of our giant gardens while others enjoy it sparingly through the gaps in the nature-nurture cocktail, is it still a valid life goal?
I'm guessing it's not. What, then, do we hope for ourselves, and our children? Fulfillment, I suppose, which can happen whether you are happy in a conventional sense or not. I wonder.
As a generally happy person (too happy - even when externally complaining I am internally thinking, "this sure feels good to complain"), this strikes me as good news.
It gives me hope that I have not simply taught my 3-year-old to revel in the joys of childhood. She is actually biologically designed to be the most enthusiastic participant in any group or any game, even among other happy kids.
At almost-30, I can assure her that the urge to nudge the person next to me on any given day and say, "isn't this great!" doesn't fade even when you add two kids and routinely subtract about 3 hours of necessary sleep.
For others in my life, those that are ritualistically dissatisfied, I
imagine this news is, not surprisingly, depressing. These folks are bored, annoyed, or pissed off by nearly all circumstances of their lives, even great achievements because they are invariably linked to unexpected inconveniences.This crowd faces a truly uphill battle to attain the ever-popular life goal of "happiness," if much of their consistent malaise is not linked to the infamous personal storm cloud hovering overhead but rather to the crabby pants of a misunderstood Great-Aunt Fern.
More importantly, though, if "happiness" is a genetic gift that some of us revel in while running barefoot through the muddy paths of our giant gardens while others enjoy it sparingly through the gaps in the nature-nurture cocktail, is it still a valid life goal?
I'm guessing it's not. What, then, do we hope for ourselves, and our children? Fulfillment, I suppose, which can happen whether you are happy in a conventional sense or not. I wonder.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Does This Make Me a Soccer Mom?
I suppose so, but Joe and I did stand apart from the other parents...
When asked to strike a "soccer pose."
We were the only ones roaring with laughter as our daughter (along with all the other kids) demonstrated that three-year-olds do not have the attention span for organized sports.
The other parents all nudged their preschoolers on with gentle shouts of "Go get your ball, Delaney... Don't stand on it, no kick it toward the net!"
We found ourselves simply trying to keep a straight face while Maya, mid-game (yes, they tried to play a game!), explained to the coach "I'm wearing a jacket, in case it gets chilly."
Our favorite blooper was repeated at least 4 times. She ran to us, away from the huddle of kids receiving instructions from their 16-year-old coach, simply to exclaim gleefully, "I'm reeeally doing it!"
The following video if from their actually game. It went like this the whole time, with each kid taking a turn with the ball. And yes, Joe and I did our fair share of directional cheering in this video! Who am I to talk...
When asked to strike a "soccer pose."We were the only ones roaring with laughter as our daughter (along with all the other kids) demonstrated that three-year-olds do not have the attention span for organized sports.
The other parents all nudged their preschoolers on with gentle shouts of "Go get your ball, Delaney... Don't stand on it, no kick it toward the net!"
We found ourselves simply trying to keep a straight face while Maya, mid-game (yes, they tried to play a game!), explained to the coach "I'm wearing a jacket, in case it gets chilly."
Our favorite blooper was repeated at least 4 times. She ran to us, away from the huddle of kids receiving instructions from their 16-year-old coach, simply to exclaim gleefully, "I'm reeeally doing it!"
The following video if from their actually game. It went like this the whole time, with each kid taking a turn with the ball. And yes, Joe and I did our fair share of directional cheering in this video! Who am I to talk...
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Some Days We Try So Hard
I used to believe that applying all of my energies to a project would guarantee success.
Then I discovered that even my best efforts fall short some of the time.
Today, the girls taught me that my best can even be too heavy-handed sometimes, as the job of parenting requires instinct and patience above all else.
Most days, I'm filled with the easy confidence of someone that can trust herself to respond efficiently to whatever demands the day puts before her. On a substantial number of others, though, I slump around, humbled by the excellence I see in others and daunted by my own lack of tangible direction toward any goal outside my family.
It isn't uncommon for people to worry about their peers discovering their own perceived inadequacies, so I try not to get too upset by these down days.
Today, however, was particularly brutal for the "yes we can" side of my personality.
I was trying so hard, with my most trusted set of tricks and tips, to teach Elliot how to fall asleep without nursing. I started a week ago, but this morning I told myself, "this is it."
I can safely say that this was her worst sleep day, at least for naps, in all of her 9 months of life. She wanted so badly to sleep, and I wanted so badly to put her to sleep. Yet somehow, we both managed to muck it up.
Meanwhile, Maya was expected to entertain herself, quietly no less. She's three. I could simply have asked her to make dinner for me, since I was bestowing such independence and maturity on her. I then struggled to identify the right punishment for the three potty accidents that occurred while I was monkeying around with Elliot all morning.
At the time, I was completely oblivious to the fact that my lack of attention to Maya must have played a roll in her accidents. Instead I congratulated myself on how calmly I responded to her accidents, in spite of the fact that she woke Elliot up from what surely was going to be a successful sleep moment.
This morning a friend advised me that if I find myself getting frustrated with the girls all the time, I should examine my own expectations, because it is unlikely that such young kids are actively trying to make things difficult.
At the time I mindlessly agreed with her and moved on with my day, but as one failed attempt to super-parent followed another and another and right on until bedtime, I have to look to myself.
Some days, no matter how hard I try, no matter how well informed or how patient I think I am, my most focussed effort can actually push me back a few steps in this strange daily life of raising up two other independent little people.
Parenting almost always works better when I don't try so hard. I wonder what other tasks that holds true for?
Then I discovered that even my best efforts fall short some of the time.
Today, the girls taught me that my best can even be too heavy-handed sometimes, as the job of parenting requires instinct and patience above all else.
Most days, I'm filled with the easy confidence of someone that can trust herself to respond efficiently to whatever demands the day puts before her. On a substantial number of others, though, I slump around, humbled by the excellence I see in others and daunted by my own lack of tangible direction toward any goal outside my family.
It isn't uncommon for people to worry about their peers discovering their own perceived inadequacies, so I try not to get too upset by these down days.
Today, however, was particularly brutal for the "yes we can" side of my personality.
I was trying so hard, with my most trusted set of tricks and tips, to teach Elliot how to fall asleep without nursing. I started a week ago, but this morning I told myself, "this is it."
I can safely say that this was her worst sleep day, at least for naps, in all of her 9 months of life. She wanted so badly to sleep, and I wanted so badly to put her to sleep. Yet somehow, we both managed to muck it up.
Meanwhile, Maya was expected to entertain herself, quietly no less. She's three. I could simply have asked her to make dinner for me, since I was bestowing such independence and maturity on her. I then struggled to identify the right punishment for the three potty accidents that occurred while I was monkeying around with Elliot all morning.
At the time, I was completely oblivious to the fact that my lack of attention to Maya must have played a roll in her accidents. Instead I congratulated myself on how calmly I responded to her accidents, in spite of the fact that she woke Elliot up from what surely was going to be a successful sleep moment.
This morning a friend advised me that if I find myself getting frustrated with the girls all the time, I should examine my own expectations, because it is unlikely that such young kids are actively trying to make things difficult.
At the time I mindlessly agreed with her and moved on with my day, but as one failed attempt to super-parent followed another and another and right on until bedtime, I have to look to myself.
Some days, no matter how hard I try, no matter how well informed or how patient I think I am, my most focussed effort can actually push me back a few steps in this strange daily life of raising up two other independent little people.
Parenting almost always works better when I don't try so hard. I wonder what other tasks that holds true for?
Is Mars in Retrograde?
What a perplexing day!
Name an issue common among the under 4 crowd, and we've dealt with it today (all before noon): baffling sleep boycotts, potty training issues, tough discipline decisions, and strange health concerns.
Then I heard a brief radio report about mysterious bird deaths and suspicions of bird flu in Minnesota, and I started to freak out a bit. When we bought this house, with it's (relatively) giant backyard, I envisioned it as a sanctuary, or compound if you will, in the case of a bird flu outbreak or other catastrophic event. We can grow our own food here, walk (down a huge hill) to a nearby lake to filter water, and hunker down within our fortress-like fence.
Oh yes... I'm one of those crazies that read Stephen King's The Stand or Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower with a bit too much gusto.
When Maya was an infant, I used to spend the wee hours going over our emergency kit packing lists, reviewing my limited knowledge of survival skills, and identifying a time-frame post-catastrophe at which point we could migrate back to the family farm in South Dakota to begin rebuilding civilization. Just imagine Veblen as the new Delphi (belly button of the word, as it's known in Greece).
I'm talking sleep-deprived apocalypse planning, here. I've read far too much sci-fi, I realize.
Now these mysterious bird deaths are coinciding with a really frustrating kid day and the day we find the perfect 1-year-old Rhode Island Red chickens for our coop.
Can we really risk welcoming chickens into the compound amidst this mysterious bird ailment.
And, even more alarming, can I really seal myself into this compound with two children who are trying my patience with such intensity so early in the day?
Name an issue common among the under 4 crowd, and we've dealt with it today (all before noon): baffling sleep boycotts, potty training issues, tough discipline decisions, and strange health concerns.
Then I heard a brief radio report about mysterious bird deaths and suspicions of bird flu in Minnesota, and I started to freak out a bit. When we bought this house, with it's (relatively) giant backyard, I envisioned it as a sanctuary, or compound if you will, in the case of a bird flu outbreak or other catastrophic event. We can grow our own food here, walk (down a huge hill) to a nearby lake to filter water, and hunker down within our fortress-like fence.
Oh yes... I'm one of those crazies that read Stephen King's The Stand or Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower with a bit too much gusto.
When Maya was an infant, I used to spend the wee hours going over our emergency kit packing lists, reviewing my limited knowledge of survival skills, and identifying a time-frame post-catastrophe at which point we could migrate back to the family farm in South Dakota to begin rebuilding civilization. Just imagine Veblen as the new Delphi (belly button of the word, as it's known in Greece).
I'm talking sleep-deprived apocalypse planning, here. I've read far too much sci-fi, I realize.
Now these mysterious bird deaths are coinciding with a really frustrating kid day and the day we find the perfect 1-year-old Rhode Island Red chickens for our coop.
Can we really risk welcoming chickens into the compound amidst this mysterious bird ailment.
And, even more alarming, can I really seal myself into this compound with two children who are trying my patience with such intensity so early in the day?
Monday, July 21, 2008
Inklings: Why?
It seems silly to begin a second blog. One that most likely no one will read (as I'm not sending the link to my friends and family).
My first blog, however, is all about the details of everyday life. It fills up quickly with stories about my daughters, the challenges of parenting, my garden, and our foray into backyard chickens. There is little space left over for anything else.
So this is simply a place to pause each day, without spin or a thought to what the grandparents might enjoy hearing, examine the deeper threads that run through my life. I'm striving to be honest about my concerns and my thoughts. I'm striving to improve my writing by engaging in a different style of daily practice.
And I'm hoping to be observant enough to capture bits of the everyday that often go completely unnoticed in the first place, or are quickly forgotten, despite their importance and recurrence in the days and years ahead.
Why a blog? Mostly for the psychological advantage of putting it "out there." Without it, I tend to settle for ragged scratches on frayed note books rather than a few hundred words of concise prose.
The goal here is to take a few moments to mediate on the day, to answer the question "What was most important or true or nagging throughout this day," and to then answer the question "What is the value in that."
Perhaps there is none. In that case, this little project will disappear quickly.
My first blog, however, is all about the details of everyday life. It fills up quickly with stories about my daughters, the challenges of parenting, my garden, and our foray into backyard chickens. There is little space left over for anything else.
So this is simply a place to pause each day, without spin or a thought to what the grandparents might enjoy hearing, examine the deeper threads that run through my life. I'm striving to be honest about my concerns and my thoughts. I'm striving to improve my writing by engaging in a different style of daily practice.
And I'm hoping to be observant enough to capture bits of the everyday that often go completely unnoticed in the first place, or are quickly forgotten, despite their importance and recurrence in the days and years ahead.
Why a blog? Mostly for the psychological advantage of putting it "out there." Without it, I tend to settle for ragged scratches on frayed note books rather than a few hundred words of concise prose.
The goal here is to take a few moments to mediate on the day, to answer the question "What was most important or true or nagging throughout this day," and to then answer the question "What is the value in that."
Perhaps there is none. In that case, this little project will disappear quickly.
Pace Yourself
We have so many projects plodding along. Slooowly.
Here is an update.
1. Journey to the Center of REM. Elliot has learned to play in her crib for 15 minutes or so, calming herself for sleep. She still screams for me after a while, and to build her trust, I head in there to comfort her. Before long, though, she'll just drift off to sleep on her own, forgetting to holler for me. It may take a while to get there, but at least she's on her way. Maya is now sleeping all the way downstairs in playroom for her naps and bedtime. Elliot is just too loud sometimes. We'll move her back when Elliot finds her rhythm.
2. Coop Dreams. It still needs some paint, but we may have chickens by the weekend. More on that later this week!
3. The Back 40... or .5 as the case is. We have beans galore, are eating our first homegrown coleslaw tonight, and should have oodles of tomatoes by the end of the week!
4. Maya Beckham? Soccer starts Tuesday! Should we get her the little knee pads?
5. Elliot's solution to high gas prices:
Here is an update.
1. Journey to the Center of REM. Elliot has learned to play in her crib for 15 minutes or so, calming herself for sleep. She still screams for me after a while, and to build her trust, I head in there to comfort her. Before long, though, she'll just drift off to sleep on her own, forgetting to holler for me. It may take a while to get there, but at least she's on her way. Maya is now sleeping all the way downstairs in playroom for her naps and bedtime. Elliot is just too loud sometimes. We'll move her back when Elliot finds her rhythm.
2. Coop Dreams. It still needs some paint, but we may have chickens by the weekend. More on that later this week!
3. The Back 40... or .5 as the case is. We have beans galore, are eating our first homegrown coleslaw tonight, and should have oodles of tomatoes by the end of the week!
4. Maya Beckham? Soccer starts Tuesday! Should we get her the little knee pads?
5. Elliot's solution to high gas prices:
Friday, July 18, 2008
Goodnight Noises Everywhere
Elliot has been learning so many remarkable things. The flagship of her recent milestones, of course, is her increasing courage to take a few steps on her own. Add to that her new ability to communicate, and you can safely assume that sleep is about the last thing she wants to do.
While she calls for mama and dada (usually dada!), she is more fond of the sound "ba." With varying inflections "ba" can appear to mean "give me that book" or "guys, I'm headed up the stairs... catch me!" or "more potatoes please."
Even more exciting are her hand gestures. I had all but dismissed the idea of teaching her sign language. I worked on it with Maya a bit, but all that stuck were the signs for "all done" and "more," both of which she mastered right around the time she could say the words. Elliot deserves a shot at learning some useful signs though, given that in the last 12 hours she has mastered raising her arms to mean "so big," shaking her head to mean "no," and waving her chubby little arm to mean "night-night."
But to be an effective signing student, she must get more than 8 hours of sleep a day (average is about 15). Lately she has been boycotting bed time until she absolutely passes out at 11:00.
With Maya, I read all of the various experts with their endlessly complex recipes for sleep. Letting her "cry it out" seems cruel and damaging for the sort of trust I'm trying to build with her, but rocking and nursing her from 8 until 11 turns me into a raging, kid-free-time-deprived nutcase.
So between Joe and I, we've cobbled together a method that might work for us. We're going to really stick to the bedtime rituals: bath, jammies, brush hair and teeth, read a couple of books including goodnight moon, give her a little snack, and put her gently into her crib. If she cries, let her go three minutes and then head back in to comfort her a bit. Back in the crib for three more minutes. Eventually she stops crying and starts playing, and then falls asleep. In theory, it takes a bit less time (fewer cycles of three minutes plus comfort) each night.
Hopefully this will teach Elliot to fall asleep on her own, deprive her of the one-on-one attention and play time that appears to be keeping her awake, and build her trust that though we may leave her alone in her room for a bit, we always come back shortly.
We're trying to achieve this with Maya in the room at the same time! Ultimately, we do want them to share a room (not ours!). It seems silly to go through the relative torture (seriously, no one is going to sleep or relax well for the next two weeks as she learns to fall asleep quietly) of setting up a routine that works, only to move them into the same room later and go through the craziness all over again.
Wish us luck. With Maya we waited until she was over 1 year to stop nursing her to sleep and start the real sleep training, but once it was done, I kicked myself for not doing it sooner. With all of Elliot's gusto for learning and interest in mimicking Maya, let's hope that the bedtime skills come quickly.
While she calls for mama and dada (usually dada!), she is more fond of the sound "ba." With varying inflections "ba" can appear to mean "give me that book" or "guys, I'm headed up the stairs... catch me!" or "more potatoes please."
Even more exciting are her hand gestures. I had all but dismissed the idea of teaching her sign language. I worked on it with Maya a bit, but all that stuck were the signs for "all done" and "more," both of which she mastered right around the time she could say the words. Elliot deserves a shot at learning some useful signs though, given that in the last 12 hours she has mastered raising her arms to mean "so big," shaking her head to mean "no," and waving her chubby little arm to mean "night-night."
But to be an effective signing student, she must get more than 8 hours of sleep a day (average is about 15). Lately she has been boycotting bed time until she absolutely passes out at 11:00.
With Maya, I read all of the various experts with their endlessly complex recipes for sleep. Letting her "cry it out" seems cruel and damaging for the sort of trust I'm trying to build with her, but rocking and nursing her from 8 until 11 turns me into a raging, kid-free-time-deprived nutcase.
So between Joe and I, we've cobbled together a method that might work for us. We're going to really stick to the bedtime rituals: bath, jammies, brush hair and teeth, read a couple of books including goodnight moon, give her a little snack, and put her gently into her crib. If she cries, let her go three minutes and then head back in to comfort her a bit. Back in the crib for three more minutes. Eventually she stops crying and starts playing, and then falls asleep. In theory, it takes a bit less time (fewer cycles of three minutes plus comfort) each night.
Hopefully this will teach Elliot to fall asleep on her own, deprive her of the one-on-one attention and play time that appears to be keeping her awake, and build her trust that though we may leave her alone in her room for a bit, we always come back shortly.
We're trying to achieve this with Maya in the room at the same time! Ultimately, we do want them to share a room (not ours!). It seems silly to go through the relative torture (seriously, no one is going to sleep or relax well for the next two weeks as she learns to fall asleep quietly) of setting up a routine that works, only to move them into the same room later and go through the craziness all over again.
Wish us luck. With Maya we waited until she was over 1 year to stop nursing her to sleep and start the real sleep training, but once it was done, I kicked myself for not doing it sooner. With all of Elliot's gusto for learning and interest in mimicking Maya, let's hope that the bedtime skills come quickly.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Taming the Jungle
When we left for South Dakota, I left a thriving but adolescent garden behind, along with watering instructions for my teenage neighbor.
Ten days later (the first three of which required an arc to navigate the flooded garden caused by a distracted teenage waterer) I returned to a jungle, still thriving, nearly ready for its first harvest, but desperately needing some love and attention. Mostly desperate for some weed control!
I spent most of Tuesday weeding the garden while the girls played in the yard, and that got me about 1/3 of the way through it. Maybe by this weekend I'll be finished. Most likely I'll be eating summer squash, zucchini, and green beans too!
Ten days later (the first three of which required an arc to navigate the flooded garden caused by a distracted teenage waterer) I returned to a jungle, still thriving, nearly ready for its first harvest, but desperately needing some love and attention. Mostly desperate for some weed control!
I spent most of Tuesday weeding the garden while the girls played in the yard, and that got me about 1/3 of the way through it. Maybe by this weekend I'll be finished. Most likely I'll be eating summer squash, zucchini, and green beans too!
My first attempt at growing cabbages may yield some dimple-cheeked children before too long!
The make-shift teepees are really working for the pole beans. Joe is so handy! Check out the coop back there.
And the girls are actually, honestly playing together! Elliot follows Maya everywhere and giggles while Maya tries to give her a ride in the Coop. Yes, we're standing nearby to catch her when she inevitably falls off!
The make-shift teepees are really working for the pole beans. Joe is so handy! Check out the coop back there.
And the girls are actually, honestly playing together! Elliot follows Maya everywhere and giggles while Maya tries to give her a ride in the Coop. Yes, we're standing nearby to catch her when she inevitably falls off!
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Our Life in Dry Out
We were all spoiled last week. The girls had the lake, tv, gummy worms, pie, cookies, chips, and endless attention from the many adults in their lives. I had the luxury of sharing the crazy that is life with two little kids.
Now we're back at home, where goodies are only for dessert, and only if Maya uses the potty all day, where tv is generally not on between 8 and 4, and where my two arms are responsible for all diapering, potty assistance, feeding, carrying, and swing pushing.
The girls have actually adjusted rather well. Maya has only had one serious fit of withdrawal in the past two days, and their schedules already resemble our pre-vacation days.
I, on the other hand, am having my own withdrawal. I miss mom cooking for us every night! I miss looking at a deck full of adults and saying, "I'm going to swim for a bit, keep an eye on the girls." I miss sending Maya downstairs to grandma and grandpa so that Joe and I could sleep in (until 8:30 some days!).
Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be home. By the end of our trip, I really missed my alone time with the girls. Yesterday morning was like a scene from a movie: Elliot happy in her swing, singing "ba, ba, ba, BA" to Maya and I as we walked around the garden checking the baby peppers and tiny green beans, sampling our first summer squash and pulling some weeds.
It's good to be home raising the girls, but I miss my village.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Traditions
I don’t know if other parents think or work hard to establish traditions, but I know we're making a conscious effort to continue my families lake going tradition. Well, it wasn’t our tradition, it was our life. Even though, as a farm family, we were bound to the laborious demands of the season, we (meaning-of course- my parents) still managed to eek out the time and resources to maintain and enjoy the cabin.
The cabin. The Cabin. In the past few years, we've expanded this tradition to include an annual week at the lake for our girls. These first summers have been light on the lake living. The girls are notorious for being difficult to transport, and babies have less freedom and far more hazards at the cabin than in their own homes. As they grow older, however, this will change.
Our long week at the cabin, no The Cabin, was full of beautiful, extended hours of beach play, frog & snake hunts, silly water games, and visits with lots of family and friends in this little area of our childhood.We couldn’t have planned a better week. Maya followed the rules of the cabin really well (just safety rules, grandma and grandpa and the rest of the family relaxed the sweets restriction and tv rules that await our homecoming), the girls slept pretty well, and Elliot took her first true steps at the cabin.
It is still a lot of work to plan, pack, transport, and care for the girls on location, but it is work that pays off with the best of childhood memories. And we frequently caught glimpses of what this tradition may look like as the years roll forward and the girls are sturdier, better able to play with a bit less supervision. At some point we’ll even be able to leave them for a week or two to do more visiting, splashing, and exploring away from us.
Both at The Cabin and The Farm, it’s a wonderful feeling for me to share the spaces, secrets, and games of my own childhood with my girls. It’s a sense of place and continuity that not every kid gets to have. Especially when we head back to the farm that has been in our family for 100 years, passing the school that saw the graduations of most of the girls’ extended family.I realize that our loved ones in the area wish that we would divide are time more generously among them all, but we are truly grateful for the many hours we spent with no agenda, no designated visiting, or performance expectations for the girls. Free, uninhibited summer play was a spectacular gift. And interspersed with all of our loved ones, it is growing into a much-loved tradition.
Aah, but it is good to be home!
Traditions
I don’t know if other parents think or work hard to establish traditions, but I know we're making a conscious effort to continue my families lake going tradition. Well, it wasn’t our tradition, it was our life. Even though, as a farm family, we were bound to the laborious demands of the season, we (meaning-of course- my parents) still managed to eek out the time and resources to maintain and enjoy the cabin.The cabin. The Cabin. In the past few years, we've expanded this tradition to include an annual week at the lake for our girls. These first summers have been light on the lake living. The girls are notorious for being difficult to transport, and babies have less freedom and far more hazards at the cabin than in their own homes. As they grow older, however, this will change.Our long week at the cabin, no The Cabin, was full of beautiful, extended hours of beach play, frog & snake hunts, silly water games, and visits with lots of family and friends in this little area of our childhood.We couldn’t have planned a better week. Maya followed the rules of the cabin really well (just safety rules, grandma and grandpa and the rest of the family relaxed the sweets restriction and tv rules that await our homecoming), the girls slept pretty well, and Elliot took her first true steps at the cabin.
It is still a lot of work to plan, pack, transport, and care for the girls on location, but it is work that pays off with the best of childhood memories. And we frequently caught glimpses of what this tradition may look like as the years roll forward and the girls are sturdier, better able to play with a bit less supervision. At some point we’ll even be able to leave them for a week or two to do more visiting, splashing, and exploring away from us.
Both at The Cabin and The Farm, it’s a wonderful feeling for me to share the spaces, secrets, and games of my own childhood with my girls. It’s a sense of place and continuity that not every kid gets to have. Especially when we head back to the farm that has been in our family for 100 years, passing the school that saw the graduations of most of the girls’ extended family.I realize that our loved ones in the area wish that we would divide are time more generously among them all, but we are truly grateful for the many hours we spent with no agenda, no designated visiting, or performance expectations for the girls. Free, uninhibited summer play was a spectacular gift. And interspersed with all of our loved ones, it is growing into a much-loved tradition.
Aah, but it is good to be home!
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Flashback
Last year during our annual week at my family's cabin, Maya and I spent a lot of time alone together.
The car is packed (too packed), so we'll spend the rest of the day trying to wear the girls out for a ride to the lake. Wish us luck on our week of frog catching, fishing, snuggling, swinging, swimming, and visiting.
Here she was last year!
This year, Joe (thank goodness for a new job with more vacation days), and Elliot Rose (she was there in spirit last year!) will be joining us.
The car is packed (too packed), so we'll spend the rest of the day trying to wear the girls out for a ride to the lake. Wish us luck on our week of frog catching, fishing, snuggling, swinging, swimming, and visiting.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Fruit Fly, Don't Bother Me
I'm not sure what it was. It may have been my under-the-sink composting garbage can (or the fact that I only empty it into the big outside bin once or twice a week). It may have been the aging bananas on our counter. It may have been the house plants I have been over-watering. It may have been the gooey high chair that is impossible to keep clean for more than a couple of hours a day.
I'm not sure what harbored them, but I have a fruit fly problem.
I've tried cleaning my kitchen and bathrooms thoroughly, and spraying almost everything with Lysol (not so green...).
Martha suggests covering bowls of cider vinegar with saran wrap, poking some holes in it, and then waiting for the fruit flies to get trapped. I have no saran wrap at the moment, but I put a ziploc over a bowl of cider vinegar, and that seems to have worked pretty well.
I'm off to acquire some saran wrap and put a bowl in every room of the house. Hopefully it works. Otherwise, when we return from our 10-day siesta at the lake, we may find a house over run by the little guys. We'll have to welcome the UMN scientists in to conduct their experiments right here.
If that doesn't work, it sounds like they may be gnats (from my houseplants) instead of fruit flies. The recommended action there is not to water your houseplants.... since I won't be home for a while, that will be a snap.
Let's hope I come home to a house devoid of the flying little creepies.
I'm not sure what harbored them, but I have a fruit fly problem.
I've tried cleaning my kitchen and bathrooms thoroughly, and spraying almost everything with Lysol (not so green...).
Martha suggests covering bowls of cider vinegar with saran wrap, poking some holes in it, and then waiting for the fruit flies to get trapped. I have no saran wrap at the moment, but I put a ziploc over a bowl of cider vinegar, and that seems to have worked pretty well.
I'm off to acquire some saran wrap and put a bowl in every room of the house. Hopefully it works. Otherwise, when we return from our 10-day siesta at the lake, we may find a house over run by the little guys. We'll have to welcome the UMN scientists in to conduct their experiments right here.
If that doesn't work, it sounds like they may be gnats (from my houseplants) instead of fruit flies. The recommended action there is not to water your houseplants.... since I won't be home for a while, that will be a snap.
Let's hope I come home to a house devoid of the flying little creepies.
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