Gabriel and I made some of our favorite cookies on Friday, and I just munched through three of them, happy to be home after a quick jaunt to Lancaster to see my mother's latest directorial triumph. More on our weekend soon, but first: I am sorry that many of you have had trouble posting comments in order to enter The Good Ms. Padgett's delightful CD giveaway. My technical limitations are being exposed in a serious way. Suffice it to say I'm working on it, and in the meantime...don't give up!
If the comments section isn't being nice to you, don't bother with it. Just like Homemade Time & The Good Ms. Padgett on Facebook, and leave a comment on the Homemade Time Facebook page so I'll be sure to know you've entered. I'll announce the three winners at the end of the week.
Enjoy this last little bit of weekend, everyone.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
good songs
Years ago, it was my turn to help out in Frances's cooperative preschool class. The only problem was she was sick that morning, and had to stay home with her baby brother and my mother, who had graciously agreed to babysit. Frances was sorely disappointed but I was secretly relieved, because cooping with that kid was never easy. At the tender age of three, she harbored an intractable fear that if I helped out other children I would become their mother and she'd be left out in the cold. If I had those suspicions, I'd probably scream whenever my mother bent over another child's shoes, too. But just because I could understand her distress didn't mean I liked dealing with it.
Despite the challenges of being in the classroom with Frances, I really did miss her that morning, most especially because we had a guest visit during circle time. A warm and lovely woman wearing bright red pants joined us with her guitar and sang and told stories. I particularly remember her reading a version of The Little Red Hen and singing an impossibly catchy refrain in the voice of the title character, who asks for help but is turned down time and time again by her lazy friends. The hen's song - anthem, really - stayed with me. I sang it for Frances and Gabriel and Mike at dinner. We all loved it. It entered into our family repertoire, where it has resided ever since.
Fast forward nearly three years. I have returned to the cooperative preschool, this time with Gabriel, and guess who I met there? Yes indeed, the singing/storytelling lady! Her name is Anna Padgett. She is a parent at the school, as well as a fantastic musician and dedicated kindergarten teacher. Here is a picture of her:
Well, it is a very nice artist's rendition of Anna, and you can find some actual photos on The Good Ms. Padgett's (her children's music name) Facebook page. The picture above is the cover art from her first eponymous album which is full of zany and sweet songs for babies and their adoring, long-suffering parents. There's something about these songs that transported me right back to being exhausted and crazy in love with my tiny babies. You need a good song and good laugh when you've got a baby. Well, you always need those things, but you really need them with a napless eight month old who looks good in hats, eats her feet, and proudly identifies her nose (all are the topics of songs on this album). Gabriel, who sometimes channels a baby named Tofu with an absurd sense of humor, really loves to listen to these songs. So do I.
Anna happens to be married to Miggy Littleton, who is another fine musician and the brother of Daniel Littleton, who is another fine musician who happens to be married to Elizabeth Mitchell. (Readers of this blog know how much I love her music). Anna and Miggy have been playing some tour dates with Elizabeth Mitchell this fall; maybe you've seen them? And the Littleton's father was a much-loved tutor at St. John's, where Mike teaches, and I think at this point you are beginning to see how satisfying the connections are for me!
Soon The Good Ms. Padgett will release a new storytelling and singing album, The Little Red Hen, but before that happens she has graciously agreed to give away three CDs (of her first album) to Homemade Time readers. It would make an awesome gift for new parents, or for old-timers like me who like to get all nostalgic and hug and squeeze their big kids too much.
Spread the word to your music-loving friends! And local readers: Anna will be playing this Friday (tomorrow, Dec 2nd) at the Leeward Market in Eastport around 6:30 pm. We're planning on being there, and hope to see some of you there too.
Despite the challenges of being in the classroom with Frances, I really did miss her that morning, most especially because we had a guest visit during circle time. A warm and lovely woman wearing bright red pants joined us with her guitar and sang and told stories. I particularly remember her reading a version of The Little Red Hen and singing an impossibly catchy refrain in the voice of the title character, who asks for help but is turned down time and time again by her lazy friends. The hen's song - anthem, really - stayed with me. I sang it for Frances and Gabriel and Mike at dinner. We all loved it. It entered into our family repertoire, where it has resided ever since.
Fast forward nearly three years. I have returned to the cooperative preschool, this time with Gabriel, and guess who I met there? Yes indeed, the singing/storytelling lady! Her name is Anna Padgett. She is a parent at the school, as well as a fantastic musician and dedicated kindergarten teacher. Here is a picture of her:
Well, it is a very nice artist's rendition of Anna, and you can find some actual photos on The Good Ms. Padgett's (her children's music name) Facebook page. The picture above is the cover art from her first eponymous album which is full of zany and sweet songs for babies and their adoring, long-suffering parents. There's something about these songs that transported me right back to being exhausted and crazy in love with my tiny babies. You need a good song and good laugh when you've got a baby. Well, you always need those things, but you really need them with a napless eight month old who looks good in hats, eats her feet, and proudly identifies her nose (all are the topics of songs on this album). Gabriel, who sometimes channels a baby named Tofu with an absurd sense of humor, really loves to listen to these songs. So do I.
Anna happens to be married to Miggy Littleton, who is another fine musician and the brother of Daniel Littleton, who is another fine musician who happens to be married to Elizabeth Mitchell. (Readers of this blog know how much I love her music). Anna and Miggy have been playing some tour dates with Elizabeth Mitchell this fall; maybe you've seen them? And the Littleton's father was a much-loved tutor at St. John's, where Mike teaches, and I think at this point you are beginning to see how satisfying the connections are for me!
Soon The Good Ms. Padgett will release a new storytelling and singing album, The Little Red Hen, but before that happens she has graciously agreed to give away three CDs (of her first album) to Homemade Time readers. It would make an awesome gift for new parents, or for old-timers like me who like to get all nostalgic and hug and squeeze their big kids too much.
If you'd like to participate in this first-ever real-deal giveaway on Homemade Time, here's what to do:
1. Like The Good Ms Padgett and Homemade Time on Facebook.
2. Leave a comment here, so I know you've entered.
Spread the word to your music-loving friends! And local readers: Anna will be playing this Friday (tomorrow, Dec 2nd) at the Leeward Market in Eastport around 6:30 pm. We're planning on being there, and hope to see some of you there too.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
football for softies
"It's a football helmet! He's on the Cowboys!" enthused my dear boy, who has permanent sports-on-the-brain.
Yesterday we hosted three of Gabriel's friends from preschool, so I made a big batch of our favorite play dough. (There really is nothing like manipulating this stuff; it's a shame we adults don't have more opportunities to squish and roll and flatten in our lives.) Then this morning I had a sitter come over so that I could work on the child abuse prevention article I mentioned recently. In the freakishly springlike sunshine I walked to a cafe, where I got to feel independent and productive, sipping coffee from a wide elegant cup and typing away with only the sounds of muffled adult conversations and frothing milk to distract me.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
grateful
Before we went to my mother's for Thanksgiving on Thursday, we took a much-needed Family Day, organized around two special events: going out for breakfast in the morning and going to a movie in the afternoon. Funny how things that were once part of our everyday (pre-children) lives have become nothing less than momentous. All the better to appreciate them! And it was our first movie-going experience as a family, which is something to grin about no matter how you slice it.
If it had been any other new release, we might not have taken a chance with our sensitive three year old boy at the sensory extravaganza that is the movies these days (oh, it is loud!). But The Muppets had just opened. We'd watched some of The Muppet Movie at home, but the thirty-year-old jokes and pacing seemed hard for the kids to access. Kermit the Frog is universally appealing; Steve Martin as a surly waiter is not. I hoped this new movie would call to my kids in a voice they could respond to.
Parenthood, for me, has been a time of suspicion towards pop culture. My sensitivity to crassness, meanness, loudness, cynicism, bad music, bad books, and bad art skyrocketed within minutes of giving birth to Frances. I wanted to keep everything ugly and stupid away from the perfect seven pounds of person that had been entrusted to us. When I read Jonathan Richman quoted saying that he didn't want to play music that would hurt a baby's ears, I knew exactly what he meant.
If it had been any other new release, we might not have taken a chance with our sensitive three year old boy at the sensory extravaganza that is the movies these days (oh, it is loud!). But The Muppets had just opened. We'd watched some of The Muppet Movie at home, but the thirty-year-old jokes and pacing seemed hard for the kids to access. Kermit the Frog is universally appealing; Steve Martin as a surly waiter is not. I hoped this new movie would call to my kids in a voice they could respond to.
Parenthood, for me, has been a time of suspicion towards pop culture. My sensitivity to crassness, meanness, loudness, cynicism, bad music, bad books, and bad art skyrocketed within minutes of giving birth to Frances. I wanted to keep everything ugly and stupid away from the perfect seven pounds of person that had been entrusted to us. When I read Jonathan Richman quoted saying that he didn't want to play music that would hurt a baby's ears, I knew exactly what he meant.
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