enchanted evening

After work today, I made it to the bus stop just in time. I pulled up to the corner, jumped out and half-walked/half-ran in my noisy heeled boots towards the baby, who was hanging out in an Ergo worn by our wonderful sitter Danielle, mother to Eligh, who would soon tromp down the steps of the bus with Gabriel.

When I am reunited with the baby I am terribly rude; I only have eyes for her and can't manage to say hello or notice anyone else until she is in my arms. Happily Danielle seems to get this and just hands me the baby when I approach. With Beatrice climbing up my front and jamming her chubby fingers into my mouth, the big kids arrive and we all decamp for Danielle's, where I need to pick up the car seat. Once there, Danielle feeds us pear bread (so good!) and after some negotiations, I leave Gabriel playing with Eligh on the skate ramp his dad built in their backyard while I go looking for Frances.

I drive the minivan home, and find Frances making rainbow loom bracelets at our next-door neighbor's house. Frances gets a ride home from school with our neighbor most afternoons. We walk in, Frances tells me about her Native American project at school, and the baby cannot wait another second to nurse, so I sit with her while Frances talk talk talks and part of my mind wonders what I can possibly rustle up for dinner. Then I put some big white beans on the stove to simmer, slip on my old clogs, and announce that we have to go get Gabriel immediately because though it is only 4:45 it will soon be dark!

Miraculously this is met with no complaints and Frances, Beatrice and I soon rush out the door and down the street. We find Gabriel and Eligh running around like wild beasts, which is their wont when together, and after I apologize to Danielle for taking so long to get back, my three children and I head home.

And much as the point of lots of strenuous yoga is the deep restorative rest of savasana, the point of all this back and forth and regular life logistics was our quiet walk home. We needed the buzz and rush to come before in order to more perfectly absorb the peaceful neighborhood and evening sky, which was exquisite. The sun setting at the end of the street lit up the clouds in so many shades of warm. It looked, according to Gabriel, like a box of pink Puffins (the cereal) had spilled across the sky.

Walking down the middle of the street, with my baby nestled against my chest, my son on one side of me and my daughter on the other, I felt complete. Grateful. Everything as it should be, even the early darkness.

Eventually Frances and Gabriel started bickering. I told them to cut it out because they were ruining my beautiful moment. They laughed. No, seriously, I said. The sky is too perfect. You cannot fight with each other right now.

Well. Ahem. They started back at it about a minute later. But it was okay. We were still bathed in that fading light, which clung to us when we went inside.

Fall, I think, is the best season. And maybe - just maybe - November is the best month.  

october

It's been a pretty good month.

When my children were younger and I was mostly staying at home, I was always on the lookout for things to do. Storytime at the library, preschool field trips, children's museums, new projects at home. Now I am working, with two-thirds of the brood in school full days, and instead I scan the calendar for things we can decide not to do. Birthday parties to skip, volunteer opportunities to decline, worthy after school activities to pass by. 

It's not easy for me to say no. I'm draped in a light blanket of guilt most of the time for not backbending far enough to find ways to volunteer in the kids' classrooms and somehow be more present in our various communities. But slowly, I'm making peace with my limitations, little by little realizing that saying no is the only way this thing can possibly work. 

And so despite the fullness of this new season, there was time in October for a wee bit of seasonal crafting (outside of costume-making, of course), revisiting all things pumpkin (most especially with oatmeal, baked or slow-cooked), digging in closets for sweaters, and best of all, a visit with a tried and true friend and her sweet baby.

And now ... sigh! ... it's over.  

Here's to staying in in November. Here's to saying yes to the things that matter most.

the baby slept all night

 

...which surely explains my ingenious use of a breast pump accessory this morning to transfer applesauce from slow cooker to mason jar, with nary a drip on the counter. (I realize the funnel has already been invented; I just don't have one). 

Look what I can accomplish after a good night's sleep! 

The reportage of sleep-deprived parents is so, so boring. (Unless you yourself are a sleep-deprived parent, in which case it can be comforting to hear about someone else's doings at 2 am). So I have been trying to recognize that all kinds of interesting things are happening in the big world out there, and keeping details about the baby's sleep habits to a minimum - except with people that I know will love me even if I am boring, namely my mother - but I digress - digressions are the hallmark of a sleep-deprived, addled brain - 

Where was I? Oh yeah. The baby slept all night. 

That's all you'll hear about it from me. I hope. Just know there was one mama out there who woke up contented and rested this morning, ready for anything. Or rather, ready to tackle a laundry deficit and a teething baby and five clients in a row and a grumpy kindergartener who hates beans and rice for dinner. And it really was all more or less tackle-able, even shot through with shining moments. 

Surely this subtle shift in my sense of my own effectiveness ripples outward, and the sum total of positive energy in the world has increased a fraction. 

I actually think someone may be smiling in China right now. 

All thanks to Beatrice's excellent night of sleep, which I will now cease discussing. 

Whoopee! The baby slept all night!

apples

In the early weeks of Homemade Time, we went apple picking with some friends. I remember feeling very accomplished and impressed with myself posting those photos, having coordinated with new friends, wrangled two little ones on a chilly day, and brought home half a fridge-full of apples.

Almost every year since, we've made the trip. (Has it really been four years? Is it really 2013? I had to think twice, then three times, to be sure). With apples overflowing the kitchen counter from today's haul, I just peeked at that old post.  How we have grown! (Grown haggard, in my case - I decided to skip sharing the shadow-eyed selfie with Bea in the Ergo. Hopefully that will improve post sleep-training...)

But really. The long limbs! The rainbow loom bracelets! The pounding sprint, the rather irritating and unbelievably loud rendition of '99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall' (thanks to Ramona, who planted the idea, and me - why?? - who shared the tune), the arguing over who gets to pull 30 pounds of apples in the little wagon, the talk of whether or not it is embarrassing to drive past middle schoolers with Pete Seeger blasting out of your minivan's windows.

And of course, of course, the baby. Our baby. She was barely a twinkle four years ago. She was a twinkle I kept private because most everyone I knew would have told me I was crazy for even thinking about a third then. But I did! More often than I care to admit. And now she's here, and I am so grateful.