{pretty, happy, funny, real} April 15, 2016

{pretty}

I find myself wanting to talk about the weather lately---really wanting to talk about it, not simply as a way of starting conversation--because this weather begs discussion.  There were those few, exhilarating, balmy days in March, when groundhogs and seasoned New Englanders alike were saying that we'd have an early spring.  Then came the snows that ripped the better part of the forsythia blossoms off the bushes, and then the slow, grudging side-step towards spring.  Now we have sunshine, but things its still brisk, and there's only a little bit of green haze in the wood.  I'm surprised that spring isn't a little further on.

But here we have some pretty flowers in our flower beds.  I planted these bulbs last fall and fairly dote on them, visiting them each day.  They are few and far between.  Somehow, I didn't realize that one bulb produces one flower--so profound are the depths of my gardening ignorance.  I sort of thought one bulb might produce several flower stalks.  My bulbs are haphazardly scattered through the beds.  My mother-in-law is coming next week, to spiff things up, garden-wise

{pretty}

Tea parties.  

Three little girls, three tea preferences.

Let's enjoy the haircut once again, shall we?

Homemade whole-wheat cutter cookies, a tulip from the garden, Pomegranate Pizazz tea.

Miss Shell

I brought the Ikea kids dishes from the playroom to the kitchen.  This lead to several impromptu tea parties this week.  We gave ourselves special names.  At this occasion, Maria was Miss Shell, Pippa was Miss Pippa, and Louisa was Miss Challawalla.  These pictures look fairly civilized, but shortly after this, things got out of hand with the yogurt (don't they always!)  We read Reschenka's Egg as we had our tea.



{happy and funny}

My opera singer friend just started rehearsals for a production of Salome.  Her husband was out of town this week, so she needed somewhere to stash their brilliant, active boys during her Tuesday evening rehearsal.  We had them over for a sleepover.  It's wonderful when doing a little baby sitting for a friend makes you a patron of the arts!

A curtsey amidst the rubble. 

The girls were very excited.  As soon as the boys appeared, things got musical---well, if not musical, then certainly very loud.  Here are some pictures of the kids' band for their album cover.  I love how James looks every inch the melancholic artist, despite the hubbub that surrounds him.

The sleepover was great fun.  The boys introduced our girls to the charm of rice with catsup.  We introduced them to beet and blueberry popsicles.

We camped out in the living room and read the Silver Chair (book 4 of the Chronicles of Narnia).  Maria and James are entering the age when they can really get the Narnia books.  It was a wonderful thing to behold their rapt faces looking up at me from a tumult of pillows and blankets, and to go with them to the court of Cair Paravel.  Louisa and Dominic enjoyed the book, but didn't apprehend so much or listen so eagerly.  Understandably, they fell asleep first, while the oldsters, Maria and James, hung in there as Pole and Eustace embarked on their adventure.

My friend returned from rehearsal around eleven and James had just fallen asleep.  He had been keeping watch for her.  The boys have a chivalrous regard for their mother that pulls on my heartstrings.

So our sleepover went well!  The boys had a good time, but woke up raring to get home.  It goes to show---nighttime adventures are all well and good, but we all want a little familiarity when it comes to breakfast!

{real}

Birthday Bullying

My friends who have boys live in a state of heightened vigilance least their boys hurl themselves off high structure or manage to drop mattresses onto each others' heads.  For those of us with daughters, it's the social landscape that is fraught with the greatest perils.  Right now, birthdays are looming large in that landscape.

We've always  had a lot of talk of birthdays in our house, but lately, the talk has been getting out of hand.  Our girls, especially Lulu,  see their birthdays as zones where they wield absolute power.  This power may be wielded charitably, as when Louisa promises Pippa breakfast in bed and two treats from the Easter candy stash on her birthday.  But, more often than not, Birthday-girl power is used to mete out retribution.  This week, Lulu, in a fit of temper, told her her preschool teacher, KC,  that on her Birthday she may not have any jelly beans.  KC's replied that on her birthday, Louisa could have all the jellybeans she wanted.  Louisa, for once, was speechless.


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Pretty, happy, funny, real - April 10, 2016

{pretty}

Some Easter peg doll angels that are intended from my Catechesis of the Good Shepherd class.

Before

After

 How I like a good bob!  Lulu once again looks like the cheeky French girl that she is.

{happy}

The girls have been enjoying duplos.  They all like them, even Maria, who feels a little overwhelmed by the smaller legos.

This week was  Maria's first science fair.  Donnie and Maria searched the house for objects and built a snap circuit to find out whether or not the objects would conduct electricity.  Throughout the process I found myself oscillating violently between exasperation (Why are six-year-olds doing the science fair?  Do I really have to go out and buy a poster board?) And satisfaction (Well, this is pretty much how six-year-old science should look.  We can probably reuse the posterboard next year.)  Now that it's done, I we're all glad that we took part.

QUESTION: What is the resistance of a grape?

{funny}

Pippa is at a great age.  She has taken to copying my yoga moves.  The cuteness of her low warrior pose is staggering.  She has also taken to stripping off her clothing and roaming the house under the cover of a canvas bin.  We call it "being a box turtle."

She also has the funny habit of telling us that we've forgotten something.  Only, when she says "forgot" it sounds more like "fog" or a certain four letter word that starts with "f."  She's usually quite worked up when she is telling us of our forgetfulness.

"F--- Weeza!  F--- Weeza!"  (We forgot Louisa!  We forgot Louisa!)

This shouldn't be so amusing, but it is!

{real}

Lately, for the first time in my adult life, I've been thinking that it would be nice to have a pet.  Donnie is not enthusiastic, and really, I'm not sure I'm ready for the commitment of a cat or dog (or even a rabbit or guinea pig).  Luckily, our house is not devoid of furry inhabitants.  We have plenty of mice, and I have the excitement of clearing the live traps! We may well reach a point of desperation and get some deadly traps, but for now we are having success with our Victor Tin Cat.  I walk the mice out to the bog that's down the road and across the street from us.  I have rubber gloves and a cardboard box all set up for mouse transport.

I was hoping to get a shot of one of our little invaders, but this one was an older mouse, and raced off as soon as I opened the trap.  So here's the sad, soiled, empty trap.

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Oasis of Prettiness - The Girls' Room

At last, we have moved out of the "shipwrecked" phase of decorating.  The shipwrecked phase of decorating is when you have just moved into a place, and you need to insulate yourself from expectations of having a showplace home.  You tell yourself, "It's okay that the books are piled, pell-mell on the office shelves--we've just been through a shipwreck!  It's okay that the upholstery on the dining room chairs is torn--we've just been through a shipwreck!" Meanwhile, you studiously avoid the home decorating blog that you once avidly followed, and steer your eyes away from the home and garden magazines at the grocery check-out isle.  After all, those publications are not intended for people who have just survived a shipwreck.  When you have just survived a shipwreck, you are thankful to have tea cups and running water and beds for each of the children.  You are intensely grateful for your sister-in-law's hand-me-down couch, and the foot mats that your parents parked in your basement after they downsized their household.  You are not to think critically about said couch or foot mats--because they were providentially saved from the waters of oblivion and landed on your shore to become useful items.

At last there comes a times, when you have stowed the items that fortune provided and find yourself more or less surviving.  It is now that you begin to seek a higher level of sophistication.    Perhaps you've even made small corners of order around the house--the spice shelf and the bathroom closets actually contain spices and toiletries respectively.  This is when you begin seeking small oasises of prettiness around the domicile.  In your search, you find boxes of unhung art. No longer protected by the shipwreck defense, these boxes have become offensive and onerous to hide.  It is now that you find the hammer and, in short fits of recklessness and impatience, you actually hang things on the walls.

And so  I thought I'd share the current state of the girls room.   When the beds have been made, and the piles of discarded clothing, toys, and paper craft have been pushed out of the frame, it is one of our larger oases of prettiness in our homely house.

This is the view that presents from our second floor landing.  

Louisa's side of the room has ended up being the more brightly colored, while Maria's is more subdued.  I learned from our rental apartment in France, that when selecting colors for a child's room, it is good to include bold colors, hence the inclusion of the red.  If you try for a subdued or muted palette, then practically every toy or book that enters the room, will violate your color scheme.  Choose some nice primaries, and save frustration. 

On the wall in the little silver frame is the Infant of Prague illustration that I made while in France.  The large picture is made from two Japanese paper dolls that my mum had framed while we lived in Korea in 1988.  I still remember visiting the framing shop and choosing the colors.  (In particular, I remember the black under the craftsman's fingernails, and how it contrasted with the bright silk that he was handling.)  I love that this picture now hangs in my girls' bedroom.  Aside from memories of my girlhood, the dolls remind me of Rumer Godden's wonderful book, Miss Happiness and Miss Flower.  The light wood frame and the the red plaque have banker clips attached so the girls can easily switch out the artwork.  The larger of the two clip frames came from Ikea.  It had a yellow background, which I covered over with scrapbook paper.  The letter "L" is actually a book that has been cut into that shape.  (It came from Michaels.) We plan to use the book to write little notes to Louisa through the years.  Right now, it has one note from Donnie.  The gist of the note is that Lulu should use her power for good, not evil.  

Here's Maria's side of of the room.  I love that her name is hanging again.  Those letters were decorated at a baby shower that a friend threw for me while I was pregnant with Maria.  I love to look at the letters and remember the lovely ladies who decorated them.  Below the letters are more clip frames (from Ikea, with added scrapbook paper background.)  On the right, hangs a mirror that my parents brought from a trip to Italy, along with some illustrations from the girls' baby books and one landscape from Dominic's Gift.

 A green exercise mat from Ikea serves as a landing rug.  It's also good for pre-bedtime summersaults and for when the girls want to camp on the floor.  The wall-mounted reading lights are also from Ikea and and were presents in the girls' Easter baskets.  We are enthusiastic about these lamps; Donnie and I have a pair in our bedroom.  It's easier to get into bed when there a cozy pool of light waiting for you.

This wall still looks neglected.  The huge clock was part of the optimistic "a clock in every room" project that I hoped would make us more punctual as a family.  The punctuality thing hasn't materialized, but it is nice to have a clock in every room.  Perhaps after the girls learn to tell time... The stars were from the same baby shower that produced the "Maria" letters.  The clipboards on the right have morning chore lists; another project embarked upon with great optimism that has produced mixedresults.  The battle for order is always uphill, is it not?

And that is our little oasis of prettiness!  Thank you for stopping by.

This is the bedroom, as it was when we moved in.

Grammy Passes

Donnie's grandmother, Irene Beauchemin Carr passed on Monday this past week. I cannot write an adequate tribute, but  can say that for me her presence added a lilting and joyous strain to the communal music of family life.  Every time that I saw her, she had something kind to say to me (often about this blog).  I came know her not only through conversations and time spent together at family gatherings, but also through witnessing the strength and goodness of her two daughters, my mother-in-law Kathy, and her sister Aunt Debbie.

Once, while perusing an album of the Sheehy family genealogy, I came across a old society page clipping.  It was a record of Miss Irene Beuchemin’s coming out ball, written with a tone of great affection by the employees who worked with Irene's father.   The clipping described her as a “French beauty” in a yellow taffeta dress.  She would be attending the ball with the man who would later become her husband. 

The image of Grammy as youthful debutante dovetailed with a story that my sister-in-law Colleen told at her bridal Shower.   Colleen had accompanied Grammy dress shopping for a family wedding.  Grammy, already in her late seventies, came swishing and twirling out the changing room in a formal gown.  “I feel so pretty, I feel like a girl of sixteen!" 

Such was Grammy's joie de vivre, that the girl in the yellow taffeta was very much present despite the passing of seventy three years.  Bitterness seemed to have no hold in her.  Even in the face of terminal illness, Grammy was joyful.  She joked about “the trip” she was going to take.  I'm forever indebted to her for her example of faith, courage and unrelenting positivity.

{p,h,f,r} July 26, 2015 - Grammy Passes, My Birthday, Miniature Mountains, and Mushrooms

{r}

On Monday, Donnie’s grandmother, Irene Carr nee Beauchemin, passed away.  Grammy Carr was a lovely woman.   Tomorrow we're traveling to be with our folks in Shelton and to attend the memorial service on Wednesday.

{Happy and Funny}

I had my birthday this past week.   Donnie got up early and bought bagel sandwiches from Brueggers, and surprised me with the gift of a hula hoop. 

 I REALLY wanted a hula hoop.  Two days prior, we had seen a hooping presentation at our library given by a bonafide hoop artist. After a tutorial, I was able waist hoop for the first time.  The performance was lively and inspiring, and seemed somewhere between belly dancing and juggling.   It seemed more accessible to me than juggling without the complicated baggage of bellydancing.  I suddenly had a vision of our entire family in the back yard working on circus skills.   It was a pleasure to see that shiny purple ring when I opened the bedroom door.

Maria’s birthday gift to me was a natural material art installation she made on our picnic table the evening before.   She called it a “miniature mountain.” Donnie called it a “ziggurat." It put me in mind of a gnome’s house, of the empty tomb after the resurrection, and a hermit's cave.  I can’t think of any other gift I’d rather have from Maria.

I was actually present during the making of the miniature mountain, but Maria forbade me from looking at it.  Maria was excited about her creation, and said she would give me a clue to what it was. “It’s covered in dirt!” she said.  "It must be a Pippa,” I replied.      

She's actually relatively clean in this picture.

One of the sources of dirt in our lives.

The hula hoop Donnie bought turned out to be the wrong size  (size is very important), so I cajoled the kids into the car for a jaunt to our local hardware store for some irrigation tubing.  (There are great Youtube videos on how to make hula hoops from well tubing)  The kind men at the hardware store put the hoops together for us.  They even had a roll of penguin duct tape for Maria’s hoop.

I spent hours working on my hula hooping. 

We had a pizza dinner with our wonderful friends, the Whites.  They will be leaving the area soon, bound for a sunnier part of the world.  I'm happy to soak up every moment with them while they’re still here  

Donnie and I rounded out the day watching “Mozart in the Jungle.”  The show has some raunchiness and dissipation, but I mostly love it. The he characters are struggling to produce great art despite their egos and the other absurdities that surround the endeavor.  There is the added bonus that Gael Garcia Bernel reminds me so much of my brother!  

It was a marvelous birthday, marked by a straightforward joy—a respite from my own anxious nature.  At any spare moment, the simple exclamation “It’s my birthday!” would pop into my head.  Everything seemed a gift, and it was!

{Pretty and Real}

When my brother called me for my birthday, he asked half-jokingly whether we have been able to avoid lyme disease this year.  I answered that though we are still properly terrified of ticks, we have a new reason for hysteria: the horror of the mushrooms!  

Our yard seems to be hospitable to all manner of fungi.  The diversity of mushrooms  in our yard exceeds the  scope of the fungi section of our New England Field guide—I need to order a field guide specifically for mushrooms.  Still, our field guide has enough breadth to tell me that we have several species that are "deadly poisonous."  I found a fly amanita growing next to the drive way,  and several examples of what are called “destroying angels” in the flower bed and yard. We also have a toddler who still gleefully explores with her mouth. 

Pippa's freedom to roam the backyard has been seriously curtailed since the profusion of fungus began.  The older girls are what I’d call “wigged out” by the mushrooms, and hate even stepping on them.  Louisa assures us several times a day “I do NOT want to eat that mushroom.  I DO NOT LIKE mushrooms.”     

 I’ve done several rounds gathering up all the mushrooms I can, bagging them and throwing them away.  I feel a vague regret when I throw them away.  They are intriguing.  Many are beautiful.  There are charming rose colored ones, velvety rust colored one, great, muffin-like King Boletus mushrooms that leave slimy black patches on the grass; there are strange, transparent sprout-like ghost mushrooms, and of course there are the elegant and ethereal destroying angels.  I could spend a pleasant morning drawing them—but they must be pulled up before the toddler wakes from her nap!  So I set about my work with rubber gloves and a plastic bag. 

Here, at least, are some pictures.  All the identifications are my inexpert ones.  Please correct me if you know better!

King Boletus

Part of a fairy circle.

Destroying Angel

Destroying Angel

Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real - May 2, 2015

 ~ Capturing the context of contentment in everyday life 

~Every Thursday, at Like Mother, Like Daughter!

Pretty

These pictures are from Easter, but the girls wore these dresses for Mass today (sufficient justification for me to show them here). Whenever the girls wear these dresses, we receive a flurry of compliments usually with the advice for Donnie and me to "enjoy this this time, because it goes by so quickly."  Indeed, I relish the sight of my girls in these dresses with a sort of preemptive nostalgia. What better symbolizes the innocence and sanctity of girlhood than a smocked dress?

Happy

A pair of robins have set up housekeeping in the rododendrum by our front door.  We noticed the nest over a week ago, and wondered at our luck.  We had a direct view into the nest from our front stoop and a very good view from our guest room.  Then passed many days when we didn't see a robin in the nest, and I reconciled myself that the robins had thought better of locating their nest next to such a nexus of noise.  But lo and behold, today, on our return from Church, there were two perfect blue eggs in the nest, soon to be followed by a third.

Here is  mother robin on her eggs.

Our robins are a sign that spring has finally found its stride here in northern Connecticut.   We're enjoying it!  Maria spends hours building fairy houses and setting out imaginary feasts on flat rocks.   Lulu has taken a new interest in the climbing dome and an old interest in donning her magenta tutu swimming suit.   Pippa is proving to be quite the outdoorsy toddler.   She points her  chubby finger at the door and cries and makes herself a nuisance until let out.   Donnie has been clearing brush and making himself  busy with the logs.  He his fond of his outdoor kingdom.

As spring has unfurled around us,  I've been reading The Secret Garden aloud to the girls.  It's the perfect literary accompaniment, and does so much to open the senses and the heart to the season.   It was one a my favorites as a child, and it's a joy to share it with the kiddos and see Maria's dawning sense of wonder.  Louisa is not quite at the stage of wonderment, but she has at least gleaned that we do not want to be like Colin, and throw tantrums!  (And, indeed, we have no excuse, because we are not stuck in bed believing that our backs are crooked!)

Maria tending her garden.

One of Maria's fairy houses.

Funny

Donnie relayed the following conversation:

Lulu:
Don: What are you singing?
Lulu: It's a song that's never been singed before.
Don: What's it about?
Lulu: It's about pirates and a land full of princesses and Cinderella and Snowwhite, and Belle and a war and the princesses are wearing pink dresses and the pirates are fighting the princesses.
Don: How does it end?
Lulu: The ship sinks and the land sinks. It's a pretty funny song.

It's so very Lulu to sing about pirates and princesses at war.  Louisa combines a deep love of fanciness with a willingness to wield violence.  Happily, it's mostly theoretical violence.  For a while, her stock retaliation to any imaginary bad guy was to "cut his fingers off."

Real

This is shot from our guest room, which doubles as a craft room.  It offers just a small glimpse of the disorder that reigns around here.  I am trying to focus of creating oases of order.  This room is still very much a desert.