Home, moving forward

We are in the process of tying up loose ends with the seller of the Varina lot to recoup our earnest money and be released from the contract. The Seller contacted a lawyer about our request to be released and is now asking us to cover some of the costs he incurred for the perc test and survey. That may turn into another story but for now we are hopeful that we will soon be cleared from any perceived financial responsibility owed to the property owner.

It was back in June that we first eyed that parcel of land, and here we are six months later and the whole deal has fallen through. We were cautious but optimistic moving through the steps to purchase the lot, however, by September we were feeling pretty good about our chance for success and so when we learned that our landlord was listing our former rental house for sale, we didn't think too hard before scooping up another little rental across town. We signed an 18 month lease, with a month to month option after that, and moved-in over the month of October. We calculated a year needed to design and finance our Varina home, then another 6-8 months for construction.

Now that we're here, in this little house, with no land and no home building project in the works, we've decided to just cool it for the next year. We looked around some for other available properties, and it really is such an investment in time and energy, we are feeling ready for a break after all the excitement and dashed hope. Our original intent was to wait until next year to get serious about finding land, anyway, but when a chance opportunity presented a large, reasonably priced, ideally located parcel of land, we wanted to go for it.

Fortunately, the location of this new house that I've affectionately coined our "little dump", is central to all our favorite places, and we're back in the general neighborhood we lived in when we were in college. Happy memories!

Less than a mile from our new rental, I can run by the river every day!

Despite the nickname, we are feeling quite happy with this place. The floor plan is much better suited for life with two kids, who still require so much attention and assistance with their activities. We can hear and see each other from almost anywhere in the house, and they seem happier to play independently because I am always nearby.

It is a single level with two bedrooms (the kids are sharing with bunkbeds!), 1.5 bath, a laundry room (major upgrade from the laundry closet in our last rental), an office for me, a sunny playroom for the kids, a central kitchen/dining/living space, and a huge fenced in backyard. The detached garage and finished attic provide a lot of storage space and so we quickly went to work filling it all up with the stuff that we don't regularly use or need. Much of our furniture is in storage, and most of the clutter is stored in the attic.

I've been practicing a toy rotation so that the kids can enjoy all of their things in a way that is more meaningful, and I'm pleased with how well it is working out for all of us. The attic space has a great pull-down stair, which has made it so convenient to move toys into and out of storage every week.

We also have all wood floors so there are no carpets to stain, and we purposely left our floor rugs in the garage so that all we have to do is a quick sweep and the house is tidy. No more vacuuming.

It is our dreaming nature to always have something in the works, and both Andy and I feel like relaxing for a bit. (But of course, last night I brought up that I'd actually like to have another a baby, pretty sure! And I realize that would be quite another project, but...we will have to feel that one out.) We're streamlining, and simplifying, and it feels good so we're going with it. If a magical property appears perhaps we will consider it, but we've turned off our searches for now.  

The Half Marathon

Naturally, we were running late on Saturday morning, and traffic was disordered due to road blocks and other race infrastructure challenges. I hopped out of the car five or six blocks from the course after we realized we were traveling in futile circles. I made my way to the start line, skipping the long waits at the port-o-johns in favor of chancing it somewhere along the course.

I missed my 2:30 heat, but joined the very last group of runners, marked with a "J" instead of a pace time. Squished in to the crowd, we inched our way closer to the official start, the bandstand music blaring louder and louder. The rain had been pouring in sheets all morning but transitioned to a cool mist as we started out down Broad Street.

I'm learning to be confident in claiming all parts of me, not just the ones that I am best at, or most talented, or the ones I get paid for. All the parts of me that bring me joy are of equal consequence and so I am a runner. I like the solitude that running offers. In that space I can be in the moment or out of it. I can go places when I run, and I can feel my city in a way that just isn't possible in a car. Races are an especially happy aspect of running. I feel a super sense when I am on a course, a heightened awareness that is energizing and just feels really good. The runners, the spectators, the sounds, the views. The work of pushing my body to move distance, across time. I love that running is truly for everyone. I love that people are at the heart of every race. I like running alongside them, being passed, and passing too. Energy radiates and the race is our one shining opportunity to culminate many months of effort and preparation.

I started the run counting miles up, until I got to the halfway point, and then I started counting miles down. The course was hilly around miles 6 and 7 but flattened out again after that. My toes fell asleep a few times and required a little stretch in the last half, but otherwise, I felt pretty strong.

When I reached the 12 mile mark, I was ready to be done, knowing that the last .1 mile always feels incredibly far. Distance running and birth share some sentimental parallels for me and so I thought a lot about my client mamas, and my friends, and my own birth experiences in that last little stretch.

A nice surprise was that the final .6 miles of the course was downhill, which made for a mad sprint to the finish.

This morning, Roscoe insisted that I wear my medal around my neck to drop him off at school. I obliged his request and as we said our goodbyes I offered it to him to keep for the day. I stayed back to chat with another mom, and caught the beginning of morning circle time, when he stood up and told the story of how his Momma ran a half-marathon and won, holding up my medal to prove it.

Listening practice, another step toward caring for self

If I can sum up my goals for this upcoming year in just one word, it is: LISTEN

I'm really good at following the lead of my kids, observing them, listening and validating their needs, trusting them, and mothering them in ways that respect who they are. 

I'm really good at following the lead of my mama clients in birth, observing them, listening to their needs, trusting their bodies, and supporting them in ways that respect and facilitate their priorities and their process. 

I believe that little bodies and birthing bodies have innate intuition, insight, and guidance. Yet, in order to be heard there needs to be someone present and willing to listen. 

Despite how ingrained TRUST IN BODY is for me, I've had a slow realization that in some very basic ways I've lost touch with my own inner knowing. Over time, and with a lot of practice, I've become accustomed to ignoring and overriding the voice that signals hunger, fullness, a need for sleep, or time to rest. I've lost trust in my own body to tell me what it needs. 

I don't mean to imply that I have an inherent flaw, I'm referring to the subtleties of : 

• over-committing my person or my time to activities that I know aren't the best use of my limited resources. 
• choosing to stay up late watching another episode of my favorite show instead of listening to my exhausted body and going to bed to refuel with adequate sleep. 
• Eating lunch at noon just because it's "lunchtime", even though I'm not hungry.
• Ignoring hunger for hours because I'm immersed in writing or running errands, or think I'll eat less overall if I can just hold off. 
• knowing that what I really need now is to read a book, or take a yoga class, or chat with a friend, or take a nap, and instead of honoring those requests I feel compelled to check social media accounts, run 5 miles, check off items from my work to-dos, or stay awake to tidy the house. 

Do you know what I mean? 

I used to make these little decisions as a result of a lack of awareness, but lately it has been in spite of a rather well developed one. I'm switching gears from ignoring and overriding what I feel, to cultivating a generally quieter and less stressful lifestyle more conducive to hearing even the softest calls, listening for them, hearing them without judgement, trusting that there is some wisdom present, and then choosing to care for myself.

So, this week the kids have been sick with Fall colds, and I have had a lingering migraine that served as my first cue that I was probably next in line for a scratchy throat and sinus congestion. I've been dragging all week, just tired, and grumpy.

Instead of using the time that I generally rely on to get my work done and to write, and to keep home, I chose to spend most of it sleeping or laying about. It's a hard thing to do, to choose self care over productivity, but I have to start somewhere, and this week while my list of to-dos remains lengthy, it feels really good to practice listening.

Walking away from our dream lot

As of last week, we've had in-hand everything needed from the seller to properly assess and review the feasibility of building a home on this lot: a soil test with certification letter, and an official survey.

When the land survey was delivered in early October, it became apparent that we needed to learn more about the right-of-way owned by Henrico County and so we began an inquiry to determine if and for how much we could buy the acreage back.

Without sharing every painful detail, over the past few weeks we have been in touch with the Real Property department to check-in and gather progress updates. All was looking promising until today. Of the three departments that needed to officially sign off on the request, Utilities said it was not a problem as did the Planning department.

I called this morning to inquire about Public Works, the department responsible for roads, and was told over the phone that they are holding on to the right-of-way for future road projects, and then this afternoon I received the official document signed by the Director of Public Works.

And so there it is.

Some time in the yet to be determined future, Varina Road will be realigned, and the uncertainty of what that project may entail (a two lane road? a four lane road?) presents a whole host of unknowns that just doesn't feel like our "dream" lot as it first appeared.

In addition to all the building restrictions placed on the land, as detailed in this post, the fact that one day there will also be a major road fronting the property, essentially in our front yard, is enough for us.

We're going to think on it tonight, but we'll likely have to pass on this one.

Isn't that a bummer, to have to start back at the beginning?

Home Town

Quincy, California 2013

I met this image of my hometown in my Instagram feed this morning, posted by a long ago friend.

Born in Oregon, my family found home in the small, often neglected towns of the West Coast in Arizona and California. I lived my elementary and middle school years in Quincy, a tiny town that documented a population of 1,728 in the 2010 census.

Quincy has roots in the gold rush, but in my mind it is a logging town. My father's career with the US Forest Service brought our family to Quincy and is eventually the reason we moved away from it. While there are many things I took with me—and left behind—when we headed East for Virginia, the land is what compels my heart to claim this little valley home as my own.

So many truly good memories thread through those foothills, main street, the canyon and the river that carves it out.

***

Starlit skies canopy our bonfire parties, cleverly tucked away, accessible only by dusty roads snaking through the mountain ever greens. No curfew, the night stretches before us. 

Bike rides across town, gears clicking, we climb the hills out of our seats. Hands-free down Bucks Lake Road, empty afternoons with choose our own adventures. Skinny dips at Lover's Leap—an ever-changing swimming hole at the whim of the Feather River. Dry heat, and hot rocks to spread out on. No time limits, or commitments. A freedom I never did find anywhere else. 

And then Snow. Snow that comes and never leaves, because the temperatures don't waver between the months of November and March. Snow so high we have to dig tunnels from our doorsteps, and yes, walk a mile to school. Sledding, and snow ball fights, and friends gathered outside in clusters, enveloped in our own chatter and breath smoke. The setting sun hints at rest with promise that tomorrow we can start again.

***

I've returned to Quincy many times since I moved away. At my last visit I was twenty-five weeks pregnant with Roscoe.

My trips back are always half full and half empty. It will never be what it once was, in those care-free days of childhood and early adolescence. Yet, almost 16 years later, I recognize how my venturesome spirit is grounded in the best parts of what that time was like for me, influencing so much of who I am and what I now crave for my own family.

This photo depicts Quincy exactly as I remember it, with love and longing.

Just gorgeous.

But I know that filters and perspective offer a dreamlike portrait memory that is more lovely than would be reality.

I am grateful for the ways that growing up in that small town, which offered us little more than the landscape that served to entertain us, has instilled in me a hunger for creativity and movement, and an appreciation for friendships built on whatever we can find out of doors to share together.  

A weekend alone, and other Gifts from the Sea

Roscoe, 3 years old

For a few weeks we've had an out of town trip planned for this weekend. I am on call for my mama clients, as I usually am, and my back-up happens to be out of the area as well, so I seized an opportunity for solitude and made the decision to stay home. Andy and the boys headed South to NC a couple hours ago, leaving me alone in my own home for the first time since becoming a mother 4.5 years ago.

I recently finished a short book called Gift From the Sea, authored by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, a mother who write's on "the shape of a woman's life" from a vacation cottage on Captiva Island. The beach and the shells she finds there inspire analogies that illustrate the chapters of her own experience, from the channelled whelk, to the double sun-rise, to the Argonauta.    

Anne's words read so plain and true. She declares the truth of my own conflicted energy as a woman and mother, a human being with responsibility and distraction. So poignant, the book resonated wildly in my own heart for weeks after I read it, mirroring my own experience through shared sentiments, with words that I've wanted to write but hadn't yet found.

Gifts from the Sea has inspired my intentions for the upcoming year in huge ways and, in the quiet peace of tonight, I want to share a little excerpt from the chapter titled Channelled Whelk:
_____________________________________

"For to be a woman is to have interests and duties, raying out in all directions from the central mother-core, like spokes from the hub of a wheel. The pattern of our lives is essentially circular. We must be open to all points of the compass; husband, children, friends, home, community; stretched out, exposed, sensitive like a spider's web to each breeze that blows, to each call that comes. How difficult for us then, to achieve a balance in the midst of these contradictory tensions, and yet how necessary for the proper functioning of our lives. How much we need, and how arduous of attainment is that steadiness preached in all rules for holy living. How desirable and how distant is the ideal of the contemplative, artist or saint—the inner inviolable core, the single eye.

With a new awareness, both painful and humorous, I begin to understand why the saints were rarely married women. I am convinced it has nothing inherently to do, as I once supposed, with chastity or children. It has to do primarily with distractions. The bearing, rearing, feeding and educating of children; the running of a house with its thousand details; human relationships with their myriad pull—woman's normal occupations in general run counter to creative life, or contemplative life, or saintly life. The problem is not merely one of Woman and Career, Woman and the Home, Woman and Independence. It is more basically: how to remain whole in the midst of the distractions of life; how to remain balanced, no matter what centrifugal forces tend to pull one off center; how to remain strong no matter what shocks come in at the periphery and tend to crack the hub of the wheel.

What is the answer? There is no easy answer, no complete answer. I have only clues, shells from the sea. The bare beauty of the channelled whelk tells me that one answer, and perhaps a first step, is in simplification of life, in cutting out some of the distractions. But how? Total retirement is not possible. I cannot shed my responsibilities. I cannot permanently inhabit a desert island. I cannot be a nun in the midst of family life. I would not want to be. The solution for me, surely, is neither in total renunciation of the world, nor in total acceptance of it. I must find a balance somewhere, or an alternating rhythm between these two extremes; a swinging of the pendulum between solitude and communion, between retreat and return. In my periods of retreat, perhaps I can learn something to carry back into my worldly life. I can at least practice for these two weeks the simplification of outward life, as a beginning. I can follow this superficial clue, and see where it leads. Here, in beach living, I can try."
_____________________________________

Happy Friday, and if you haven't yet read Gifts from the Sea, I hope it finds a way onto your Holiday wish-list. 

Color Inspired by Nature

The banks of the James river are one of my very favorite places to spend time. We have so many photos of our adventures in and around the River, wouldn't it be cool to use some of them to inspire an interior color palette for our new house? Here are a few photos from today.

Ward off the goblins with these nightlight lanterns

These little nightlight lanterns were inspired by a legend I discovered in the book I'm reading about Greek-American holiday. It says that during the time of the Dodecameron (December 25 - January 6) mischievous goblins called kalikantzari, who live beneath the surface of the earth and try to destroy the world's Good, emerge to disrupt people's lives with pranks and tricks, like spilled milk, disappearing keys, and broken glass.

Fire and light protect people from the kalikantzari and so on Christmas Eve a fire is lit to prevent the goblins from coming down the chimney. Sometimes bonfires are built in the villages of Greece, and people carry a candle with them at night for protection.

Looking ahead to December, I wanted the kids to have little vessels for candlelight, and this tutorial made for a special project we could work on together. 

Decoupage tissue paper on a clean jelly jar and let dry completely

Add 22-gauge wire around rim to form a handle, string the wire with beads and secure

Color changing LED lights are fire-free and plenty bright, we put more than one in each jar for a rainbow glow effect.

An Instagram preview of the lanterns at night

In December, we'll look forward to blaming any suspicious holiday chaos on the kalkantzari but, when nightfalls, and we're snuggled together in bed, we'll be protected from the brunt of their malevolence, safe by the light of our lanterns.

NaBloPoMo 2013

It's that time of year again. NaBloPoMo.

Views from my morning run

I blogged June 2012's NaBloPoMo and really, really enjoyed writing every single day.

I'm gearing up for hibernation. My current Bradley Method series ends this Sunday, and I have four doula client families giving birth between now and the beginning of January. I will be taking off the first four months of the New Year to pursue some little projects I've been wanting to dive into, as well as to complete my lactation course that has been in-progress for months. I'll be coming back in the Spring/Summer with exclusive MamaBorn offerings that will allow me to meet the needs of a broader range of clients.

Self care is at the top of my list right now, which includes a commitment to more writing. NaBloPoMo fits in nicely, nestled here in November. Writing every day tends to shift my focus from broody, crafted topic posts to lighter, more timely snapshots of life. Are you ready? I am!

I'm looking forward to ending the year with a slower pace, and welcoming 2014 with energy and creativity to do all the things I love most.

Saturday in the City

We haven't had a free weekend day in a long time: no commitments, no schedule to keep.

An intense storm last night caused power outages throughout the city, and the community was bustling even earlier than usual this morning to clear the streets and yards from downed trees and limbs.

Sultry conditions at 6am foreshadowed the heat that came later in the afternoon, but we decided to get out for an early walk for breakfast and coffee while it was still relatively cool, and then Roscoe and I drove to the farmer's market to pick up our berry share.

Apricots, plums, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and peaches are all in season right now, and we got some of each. Roscoe also stopped at his favorite tent Sugar Baking Co. to chat for a long time with Morgan, as has become his routine, and to choose his usual Saturday morning treats to share with the rest of us.   

We also found some cherry tomatoes, pink and yellow brandywine tomatoes, golden and red beets, cantaloupe, potatoes, and string beans. Nap was fast approaching and we didn't have time to venture to the larger and busier South of the James market. We were happy with what we had foraged so we went home.

After snack Andy took the boys for a walk at nap time and I logged a couple hours working at my computer, editing a summary report of an evaluation that we conducted a few months ago.

When the boys woke up I got a turn to nap and then around 2pm we packed up our bathing suits and snacks and headed out for some water play. There was little shade but the kids were content in the water and a local band was playing nearby so Andy and I just kicked back with iced coffee and our goodies from the market--it's rare to find an activity for the kids that doesn't require our constant involvement so we thought it was especially nice. We kept the drinks flowing and the snacks coming but the boys were hot and ready to go after 45 minutes so we did a little shopping and then grabbed dinner to go.   

Merritt has been asleep for an hour now and Andy is putting Roscoe to bed as I type this.  We've planned a discussion for this evening to hash out roles and responsibilities for each of us now that my job is winding down and I have more or less assumed the role of a full-time stay at home mom. We've needed to shore up our expectations on both sides so this will be a good opportunity to outline a plan and to establish boundaries for each of us as we are both moving in new directions professionally.

Another Summer storm is brewing outside, the wind's kicking up and the thunder rolling.

Stay cool and happy Saturday night to all!

What I learned from NaBloPoMo

Tomorrow is the last day of NaBloPoMo and I've learned a few things this month:

1. I enjoyed a self imposed reason to write every day
I liked that I was able to blog timely posts this month--a mothers day post near mothers day!--and that the requirement to develop content to publish every day encouraged me to venture from my typical blogging formula. Which leads me to my next point . . .

2. I need to think less, and write more
I spend too much time wondering whether an idea or topic is worthy of posting. The posts with the most hits this month were not the ones that I would have bet on: potty training, my thoughts on getting pregnant again, my lack of postpartum weight loss, and pinterest. I feel more freedom to write what's on my mind and to post whatever I feel like sharing.

3. I am censored in my writing
The audience of Marbles Rolling spans all of my circles, professionally and personally. Sometimes, I think of starting over with an anonymous blog and other times I don't feel like worrying about it, relationships be damned. But of course I don't do either of those things. Instead I keep an ongoing mental list of banned topics (and it just keeps growing). If you blog, maybe you can share with me your perspective on striking balance? 

4. I finally figured out why I blog
I've been blogging for a few years now and in that time the content and the frequency of my posts have fluctuated from posting every day, to posting only a few times a month, to 3 times a week, and sometimes more or sometimes less. It ebbs and flows with my energy, but at the end of the day I am a writer. This blog has helped me to own this very basic and essential part of who I am. Writing is my process. 

Though in the last year, especially, I've wondered to myself and to many people close to me, "Why do I blog?" or even, "What is the point of all this blogging?" I've been searching for meaning and direction, and a better understanding of my goals so that I can maximize the potential of this online space. In signing up for Pathfinder day at Blogher '12 (coming soon in August!!) I was hoping to discover something new that would bring clarity, but in making writing a priority this month I think I figured it out on my own. 

I blog because I need to write, it grounds me in my own experiences. I blog because I want the boys to know who their mother is, before they could ever really know me. I want them to know how passionate I have always been about them and for the life of our family. I blog as proof that we were all here, living this together. 

Merritt's 16 month appointment

Merritt's weight is in the 25th percentile and he grew taller since our last visit in April so his height is in the 50th percentile. Neither his pediatrician nor I mentioned his prematurity today, which feels like a worthy milestone. He's just yer average 16 month old.

I had the rare opportunity to observe Merritt in his natural habitat, as Andy would say, without the variable of big brother in the picture because my sister offered to hang out with Roscoe in the waiting room.

In an environment of relative peace I observed Merritt maneuvering around our tight-quartered patient office and then when he sat down, how he coolly turned the pages of a book with his little fingers full of intention and ease, his curiosity engaged to explore each page, and his effort to catch my attention so that he could show me that he knew the animal or the sound that it made. The whole scene suggested that we've comfortably entered into whatever comes after the baby phase.

Just like that. (In hindsight, anyway.)

A warm sense of dumbfounded relief washed over me because I love this age, between 1 and 2, and our experience with Roscoe was that around this time we hit a new stride that felt easier than what came before. I'm not 5 months pregnant right now, like I was when Roscoe was this age, so we're primed to actually get to experience and enjoy the happy progression of independence that has just recently commenced. 

What is thrilling, anyway??

I'm using a writing prompt today from the the NaBloPoMo June 2012 list: 
Would you ever go bungee jumping?

Generally, I like to play it safe with secure investments, lots of planning, always taking the long view. Caution and intention. 

I don't easily embrace change, I am challenged to thrive in times of uncertainty, and I don't enjoy risk if it involves anything that I might miss if I lose it, or that with some level of planning I couldn't recover from if the decision didn't pay off.

I like thrills every now and then, but not cheap ones just for the sake of them.

I'm not a physical sensation seeker. I've never had the desire to bungee jump. Sky diving, helicopter tours, parasailing, and hang gliding each attract me with intrigue to see the world from new perspectives. I think scaling walls and rock climbing would be a rewarding sport, particularly the adventures involved with seeking out new spots and routes.

If I'm honest I'm sometimes too practical, stifled by logic.

I know that every activity that we engage in presents a certain level of risk and that so much of what feels safe or feels risky is related more to how much power we feel we have in a given situation and less about what is truly safe or risky.

I've felt a heightened state of awareness since the kids were born, their very existence only magnifies for me the unpredictability and uncertainty that exists in life, which then demands acknowledgement of my own mortality. That is honestly the most frightening thing I can imagine, short of losing one of my own children. 

Sometimes I wonder if this new mindset means that I'll never again get to do anything daring or reckless. I'll always be their mother and my desire to protect my own person and health in order to be present for my family will never wane.

I often feel stifled in default mode, constantly seeking safety and control, which predictably leads to intense yearning for something wild. (I admit that I am susceptible to boredom.) I alternate in these cycles sometimes for good and sometimes not.

Perhaps what is more interesting is to wonder if I'll ever want to do any of those kinds of activities again or if my idea of what is thrilling, fear inducing, challenging, fun, or adventurous will continue to change with time: white water rafting and flying over hawaii in a private helicopter replaced by choosing yarn for my next knitting project or securing a date with my husband to scout out properties on which to build our dream house.

Would you ever go bungee jumping? What thrills you?

Berry CSA: weeks 7, 8, & 9

I'm really behind in posting about our berry CSA.  I love, love, love community supported agriculture, but at some point in every season, I think to myself, "Oh no. Not more . . . ."  The week before last it was strawberries.  During the fifth week of our veggie CSA it was snow peas and cucumbers.

The fruit is always gorgeous, fragrant, and so pretty to look at. It really should be consumed within the first few days after we pick it up at the market or it starts to look drab and necessitates being baked into something.  I have no excuse for letting some of their perfect berries go to waste.  I know. I feel terrible.  I just couldn't think of anything more to do with those strawberries, and I'm the big fruit eater around here and I was sick for a couple of these weeks with zero appetite.

Here's what we've been eating and (in some cases) tossing:

Week 7: strawberries, blueberries, raspberries
Week 8: blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, blueberries
Week 9: blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, apricots

Our recipes over the last few weeks have been uber simple: berry salads with honey glazes, or yogurt toppings; berries over ice cream; berries in oatmeal; berries with whipped cream.

I bake a fancy cheesecake in the winter months that has a delicate sour cream layer on top and I always make sure to whip up a little extra topping so that I have plenty to "taste test" without impacting the final product.  All of that to say that I made a batch of the sour cream topping and used it as a dip for the berries, and it was really good.

I'm not terribly precise when I do this, but I mix in a small bowl approximately 3/4 cup sour cream, 2 teaspoons of vanilla, and 1 tablespoon of sugar (you can use brown or white).  You can add more or less sugar and vanilla depending on your taste.  It pairs well with strawberries and blueberries in particular.

Speaking of blueberries, we've been eating a lot of blueberry pancakes. A lot. We enjoy a good breakfast-for-dinner at least once a week.

The very best pancake recipe that I have ever made, and that we've been making for several years comes from the Joy of Cooking...it's true!  Actually, I first saw the recipe when I watched the McNeely's on the Food Network one evening back in 2010.  We've been making them ever since, but recently I was looking through my joy of cooking cookbook and the recipe is EXACTLY the same, except the McNeely's add pecans.

They are so perfect.  Fluffy, tender, and a little on the sweet side.

The recipe for the "Best Buttermilk Pancakes Ever" (or depending on who you ask, "basic buttermilk pancakes", or "buttermilk pecan pancakes"):

DRY ingredients:
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt

WET ingredients:
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
3 tablespoons unsalted butter melted
2 large eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Whisk dry ingredients together in a large bowl.
Whisk wet ingredients together in a large bowl.
Pour the wet ingredients over the dry ingredients and gently whisk them together, mixing just until they are combined.

Place blueberries on each pancake after the batter has been poured.

Merritt uses his words, a video clip

At this age communication is like a word game. Check out this little video of Merritt eating his dinner at the end of a long cranky day. I'm just trying to guess my way through and this was the first time I heard him say the word corn.

A day away, a night to make up for it

Blackberry ice cream on the stoop, earlier today

After a long and warm day spent staffing the Birth Matters tent at the Veggie Festival, I came home feeling energized only to find my boys huddled in the bathroom, Roscoe into his third bout. It was thirty minutes past Merritt's bedtime and when I picked him up he placed his head on my shoulder and nuzzled into the crook of my neck where he hung out subdued for a bit before he started to whimper. Tired.  Not feeling well.

Andy gave the run-down of the afternoon: snack, a trip to the park, a television show. Roscoe said he was feeling sick, Merritt wouldn't eat any dinner, Roscoe threw up, Merritt couldn't be put to sleep with Roscoe alternating between the couch and toilet.

Mid-conversation Merritt started to heave and then threw up. Then Roscoe. Then Merritt again.

Then the boys were put to bed, and promptly fell asleep. They've each woken up three times since then (it's only 9:30pm). More of the same.

Andy says he's not feeling well.

I'm hoping whatever this is stops with the kids, and I hope it passes fast. I wish I could take away the  panic that sets into their whole bodies when they can feel they are about to be sick. As their Momma, in times of otherwise helplessness, I am relieved that the one thing that they really seem to want and need is me. I fear a long night ahead but if doling out extra belly rubs, and wiping hair from damp foreheads to blow cool air over their little faces is what makes them feel safe and even a little bit better, well I can do that all night long. 

On potty training: a post for people interested in this sort of thing

Roscoe showed interest in potty training around 18 months, but I was working 4 days a week then and our nanny at the time didn't seem particularly interested in facilitating his transition out of diapers, which really was fine because he seemed so young and we had a new baby due in a few months and it felt like a bad time to push a big developmental milestone. So I said, "oh, after the baby is a few months old, then we can try." At that time, I thought that Merritt's birth would bring the end of my work, so it seemed that I would have more time to devote to potty training "once work ended." Well, we all know how that story went.

I've put off potty training (or potty "learning" as some like to call it) at least three separate times since then: once when the postpartum period and life with two under two was a lot tougher than I thought it would be; then, when work's end was on the horizon (yet again, but not really though); and finally when we decided we were moving to Richmond.

In May, Roscoe turned three, the average age of potty training. While we don't call it potty learning around here, I do believe that child readiness is the single most important factor to success, and Roscoe has made a few big leaps in progress over the last month or so.

His journey has looked something like this:

• 18 months - 24 months: We bought a potty chair and a stool so he could reach the sink. He was interested to sit on his little potty with all of his clothes on, and even went through a phase where he would ask to sit on it a few times a day. He liked to hang out in the bathroom while we used the toilet. He enjoyed helping with and learning about the process: handed us toilet paper, flushed the toilet, or washed his hands when we did. He would take his diaper off without warning, loved to be without it. At this age he was not bothered a bit to sit in a dirty diaper, he had more interesting things to do like play.
• 24 months - 33 months: Basically the same as 18-24 months except he had zero interest in sitting on his little potty. We bought a potty seat. Diaper changing also became a serious battle. Momma and Poppa grew tired of grown up poops in a two year old's diaper. Roscoe loathed having to take time away from life to get a clean diaper.
• 34 months: I asked him why he didn't like to sit on the potty. Roscoe said he was "scared he would fall in", which really surprised me because we've never talked about anything like that with him before, I thought those kinds of fears didn't really exist without some suggestion. We relocated the stool from the sink to the regular toilet, and relocated the potty seat from the bathroom closet to the regular toilet. He liked the new arrangement and would sit on it when he felt like it. We would ask Roscoe if he needed to go potty, he would reply no, then 15 minutes later we'd realize that he needed a diaper change.
• 35 months: One day in the backyard Roscoe proudly demonstrated that he could pull his pants up and down. He would poop or pee in his diaper then find us to tell us, "I peed..." or "I pooped...change me." He asked to sit on the potty to pee before bath and was successful. 
• 36 months: He would wake up mostly dry in the morning, and sometimes dry after nap. He continued to demand diaper changes after peeing or pooping.  He would get really upset if he peed, even a little bit, in his diaper before bed and would demand a change. He declared that he needed to pee on the potty, but decided he was done less than 30 seconds later so I offered a cupcake as a reward for peeing now or later, or whenever. He sat with determination and 4 or 5  minutes later we heard shrieks of "I did it!" 
• 37 months: Same as last month, but now he says things like, "I'm peeing in my diaper." (present tense!) And we'll say, "Do you want to go in the potty?" And he'll reply, "No, I'd rather just go in my diaper."

See!? Progress!!

Every kid has their own journey out of diapers, and I'm excited for all of us that this Summer may mark the end of Roscoe's.

When did your kiddo make the big transition?  Any tips?

Another hot one

We welcomed the first official days of Summer with temps close to 100 degrees. The return on investment of our $4.00 sprinkler has been great.

Lots o' muddy baby bums, coming right up!

*More pictures taken by their nanny.  I don't know what I'm going to do without my camera for THREE weeks!!?

Painting with Pudding

If you want to avoid boxed pudding mixes, we've enjoyed this homemade chocolate pudding as a snack and for dessert--it's definitely not just for painting with!

Speedy Chocolate Pudding (adapted from The Family Dinner cookbook)

1/2 cup sugar

2 tablespoons cocoa powder

3 tablespoons cornstarch

3 cups regular milk

4 ounces milk or semisweet chocolate chips

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon salt

Stir the sugar, cocoa powder, and cornstarch together in a medium-size saucepan. Gradually stir in the milk. Heat, whisking constantly, until the sugar dissolves and the mixture begins to boil and thicken, about 10 minutes.

Add the chocolate. Turn off the stove. Gently whisk until the chocolate is completely melted.

Stir in the vanilla and salt. Pour into small custard cups if you're going to eat it, or onto a plate if the kids will be painting with it.  

Can be served warm, at room temperature, or chilled.

*My camera is at the Nikon repair center, because Merritt pulled it off a counter by its strap and the LCD screen is broken.  These photos were taken by the kids' nanny.