These Are the Days...

...when the evening is warm enough to eat dinner outside with friends...

...when the stove takes a back seat to the grill...

...when shoes are an afterthought or not even a thought at all...

...when half a watermelon is a legitimate lunch...

...when all growing things are coming to life and making their way into Spring. We spend more time outdoors than in, the boys lugging watering cans around to "help" with the watering of our ever-expanding garden, sitting on our picnic blanket with a cool glass of lemonade, watching the chickens hunt for bugs, and generally doing their best to get as filthy as they possibly can before bed. I have been reveling in the simplicity and fullness of our days; putting the boys to bed each night after a good scrub in the bath; watching two brothers become best friends; being amazed anew at the way seeds+dirt+water+sunshine=food; looking up from my work in the garden, feeling my hands in the soil and the sun on my face, seeing the boys running around the yard with the chickens, hearing Aaron's work van pull into the driveway just before dinner and thinking to myself, this is the life.

Catch Up

Life has been really full lately, and I haven't had time to keep up with my blog. I've noticed that once the weather warms up I find it more and more difficult to find myself in this space, as I'm too busy moderating fights over the hose, cutting up watermelon and trying to find a way to keep too much dirt from making its way into the house. The other day, the boys were begging me for some kind of art project. While on Whidbey for Easter, I picked up a gorgeous set of vintage linen hemstitched napkins(did I mention them already?), and wanted some napkin rings to go with them. I'm not sure why, but lots of people seem to find napkin rings a serious source of inspiration to commit really atrocious crimes of visual torture: chunky beads, gratuitous amounts of ceramic, enough metal to cover half the actual napkin. This must stop. They're just napkin rings, they don't have to make such a heavy statement. I'd love to own a beautiful silver set someday, but for now these wooden ones I picked up for $1.99 for four will do just fine. They were a great project for little hands who lack the patience for precision.

While the days have been sunny and mild, Jack seems to think the weather has been positively equatorial. One glimpse of sunlight, regardless of the temperature, and he refuses to wear a shirt.

Proof positive of Briana's accusation that I paint everything robin's egg blue.

After a lot of observation, I've come to the conclusion that Jack's skin can tolerate a little spelt. Not too much, but we seem to be able to get away with a spelt-dominated meal once or twice a week without angering his eczema. I cannot describe the joy this brings me, as I've been itching for the chance to use my new-to-me ravioli maker I bought for under $5 at a thrift store.

I think the pizza cutter method I used at Thanksgiving is actually faster, but the aesthetic pleasure I get from those zig-zag edges is totally worth the extra time. I filled these with mushrooms, mozzarella cheese, sun-dried tomatoes and fresh herbs. The boys both preferred plain mozzarella-filled. I will write a post soon on the joys of fresh pasta; not just the flavor, but the tactile joy and family involvement too. It really is fun for the whole family.

And in less picturesque news, I've been obsessed with Rubens. I loathed them as a child, but somehow I've recently developed a serious and relentless hankering for sauerkraut. Must be the 1/8 German in me.

I'm still attempting to pare down our belongings, and did a pretty good job with the toys. I decided I was going to have to be totally ruthless, and I was. The only toys in the boys' room are building blocks and vehicles. Everything else, no matter how cute or interesting, went into a storage bin and was put away for later use or donation. I've already noticed a reduction in living room clutter and am satisfied that I've reduced their playthings to a quantity they can reasonably put away on their own. Also, I vow to never ever give a child another present with multiple pieces. I will give books, art supplies or a toy that comes as a single piece, like a doll or a truck. Puzzles are dead to me, card games anger me and I hold a special place of loathing in my heart for any kind of "kit." I realize there is educational value in things like that, but right now it's more than we can use or manage. I'm still searching for my dream storage cupboard which I will hopefully discover before the start of the school year. I do want the boys to have things like puzzles and card games and "kits,"(I can't even type the word without quotation marks, so deep is my disdain)but not until we have a system for taking care of those things. Which mostly means having a place to store them where they can be easily accessed by me but not the boys.

Marathon Update: The date is closing in fast(June 26th), and I'm not ready. As soon as I began increasing my mileage two months ago, I developed knee trouble. I've never had any knee injuries or problems before, but any running over six miles brings excruciating pain. I talked to my chiropractor about it and after examining my legs he informed me that I have ridiculously tight IT bands. The IT band is a strip of connective tissue which runs from the top of the hip down the outside of the thigh to the top outside of the knee. Increasing your mileage and/or muscle mass can cause the body to store calcium deposits in this band, making it thick and tight. This puts strain on the knee cap, as it doesn't have the elasticity it needs to track properly. The solution is to use a foam roller to break down the calcium deposits and make the IT band soft again. The foam roller goes on the floor, and I lie on top of it on my side and slowly roll up and down it. It sounds easy enough, but the sensation is something like rolling on shards of broken glass(calcium deposits are hard). Realistically, I'm thinking I might have to settle for the half marathon this June and aim for a full later in the year.

Now I need to find pants for one kid, food for both of them, and track down whatever is making my bathroom smell really funky.

Orkin Schmorkin

Ever since we moved here, we've had trouble with ants. In the summertime I'd see one or two scurrying across the dining room floor, and if I left any crumbs on the counter from lunch I could be sure to see a few more in the kitchen. Ants are probably one of the less offensive leggy-crawly things I know of, but I'm not really a fan of any kind of bug in my house unless it's in a glass jar. So the ants were bugging me. I suspected that they were living somewhere in our rotting sun room, and had high hopes that after it was torn down the ant problem would die down. No such luck. I was right about them living in the rotting sun room, specifically, in a rotting beam, but after the demolition was over the ants felt displaced and decided to go looking for a new home- mine. I was not cool with this. I was really tired of sweeping the dining room floor and then having half of my dust pile get up and crawl away. Now that spring is in full swing, the boys and I have begun planting. My beds aren't ready yet, so I planned on doing some container gardening. I found one of our old ugly containers which I'd more or less neglected last year, and was not shocked to discover it had been taken over by grass. I decided to dump it out and salvage the potting soil from the bottom. Guess what I found when I dumped the container over? Ants. Hundreds and hundreds of them. "Gotcha, f***ers," I said. But very quietly under my breath, so the boys wouldn't hear me. I wasn't sure how to handle ridding myself of the ants, so I popped them back into the container while I plotted their demise. I didn't want to use any spray(it's really nasty stuff), so I decided it would be best if I simply transplanted them to our local woods. I hefted the container into the wheelbarrow and the boys and I trotted it down the street to the walking path, which was when I realized anew the disadvantage to being the family photographer. Jack is very safety-conscious, so he insisted that he and Matteas both hold my hand despite the fact that my hands were plenty occupied with large handfuls of wheelbarrow handle. We were, after all, walking down the actual street. Safety first. So there we were, the three of us trudging down the street in our galoshes(yes, even me) with a magenta wheelbarrow containing a ginormous planter full of vagrant ants, me walking slightly crouched to accommodate the hand of the boy clinging to either side of me. We found a nice rotten stump for them in a woodsy spot and unceremoniously dumped the ants on the ground, then went for a hike through the woods. I find myself learning the same lesson over and over during our Pacific Northwest Springs: go out while it's sunny, because five minutes later it could be hailing. I ran at the gym last night because it was so cold and windy, then this morning was sunny and beautiful. Now the clouds have rolled in and the wind's picked up, so I'm putting the kettle on and feeling really pleased about our morning hike and our eco-friendly ant disposal.

When I Wasn't Busy Vomiting...

In spite of the fact that I was under the weather for the majority of our trip, we did manage to pack a lot in. Our first night in Long Beach we grilled cheeseburgers for dinner, then headed to the beach.

Matteast, meet the Pacific Ocean.

Aaron and Jack played a game where they'd walk out as far as they could into the surf, then run screaming(Jack did most of this) back toward shore when a big wave rolled in. I don't think Jack would have gone for this six months ago. He struggles with fear, but in the last year I've been blown away by how hard he works to, as he puts it, "choose courage."

After a particularly jubilant(read: lots of screaming) escape from a wave, they'd give each other knuckles. It was a casual gesture, but it kind of gave me goosebumps to see it because it marks the beginning of a new trend in Jack's relationship with is dad: one in which they can mutually acknowledge the other's manhood. I know he's only five, but every day Jack's desire to be more like his dad grows. It's the reason he wakes up at the crack of dawn every freaking day; "I'd sleep in Mom, but I have to see Dad in the morning."

After the sun went down it got a little chilly, so I loaned Matteas my hat.

Every day, Matteas would put on his boots and in spite of what else he was or was not wearing, declare himself ready to go to the beach.

Jack has been obsessed with Orcas lately. He drew one in the sand with his foot.

The boys shared a queen sized bed. It mostly worked out.

Here we see Jack discovering the "air pockets in my swim trunks" phenomenon. He thought the way the bubbles augmented the appearance of his own anatomy was absolutely fabulous.

"Matteas, look at my huge penis!!!" Gotta love boys. Which, luckily, I do.

I love this picture; it captures so well Matteas's exuberant little spirit.

Now and Then

Five years ago, when Jack was just a few months old, Aaron asked me if I'd like to go to Oregon for the weekend. "When?" I asked. "Tomorrow," he replied. The next day, we packed up the car and drove down the coast, stopping in Long Beach for a night before heading into Oregon the next day. We had some beautiful weather for our trip, and we got ice cream cones at this little corner shop in Long Beach. Just before hitting the beach, Aaron took this picture of me and Jack.

Five years later, things look a little different. I'm really pleased that even though there is an additional child in this picture and I'm five years older, I'm thinner and have better hair now than I did back then. Also, I no longer appear to be 12 years-old, something I did until I was about 24 or so. This picture is actually one lamp post closer to the boardwalk than the picture above, but I couldn't remember at the time which lamp post we'd stopped at on that first trip. I'm not sure how I even remembered having my picture taken in front of a lamp post at all, seeing as how it was, well, a lamp post, and I can think of more memorable landmarks. Anyway, before we left Long Beach yesterday Aaron took this picture of the boys and I. It's one of the only pictures of me from our trip because I was in bed a lot of the time, which was a total pisser. We arrived Sunday evening and had a great dinner and a lovely beach walk before bed, but on Monday I came down with the stomach flu or food poisoning or something which caused me to vomit profusely for a six hour period. Tuesday morning found me feeling much better but a little on the weak side, and by Wednesday we had to check out and head home. The timing couldn't have been worse. I suppose it would have been worse to be sick on the drive, but the fact that I had a lovely bathroom and a king size bed all to myself was small consolation compared to the fact that I was missing vacation with my family. We'd all been looking forward to the trip, and after a whirlwind social month filled with visits from friends and birthday parties it sounded so good to take a few steps back and focus on just being a family. Aaron made sure the boys still had a fantastic time, but I feel kind of robbed. On Tuesday evening when I staggered out of my room for some gingerale, Aaron and the boys came in from one of the many exciting expeditions they went on.

"Hi Mom! Are you feeling better?" asked Jack, bounding over to hug me.

"Hi, love; yes I am feeling better, thanks. Sorry I got sick on our vacation."

"Oh that's okay, Dad and Matteas and I have been having a great time!"

The good news is, our little vacation did serve to inspire me with a new project. Our rental condo came fully furnished, including a full kitchen complete with dishes and silverware. We didn't bring much with us: clothes, food, one bag of books, a small box of markers and one gallon Ziploc full of matchbox cars. It was totally great. The boys, not having much to play with but each other, got along better than they typically do at home. Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact that Aaron and I were both there(well, mostly Aaron) but I feel pretty sure it also had a lot to do with something I'm determined to make a guiding principle in my life: there was just enough, nothing extra. The condo was modestly furnished and minimally decorated; most of the decoration was incorporated into the furniture itself, a bright red armchair bringing some color to the living room and the striped carpet providing some structure but also a bit of visual interest to the background. At home, we have way too much stuff. I've always known it, but at a time in our lives when we are very busy and time to relax is hard to come by, I feel convicted anew about simplifying our lives, weeding out all the extra and focusing on having and better-enjoying "just enough." I'm going to start with the toys, then systematically go through everything in the house and keep paring down until all departments can be easily managed.

Birthdays, Boys, and a Big Bowl of Disgusting

I turned 27 on the 19th. There was a lovely party. I am now a firm believer, after throwing lots of parties the wrong way, that the right way to throw a party is to divide and conquer. Anna offered to make me a birthday dinner, and since we couldn't get a babysitter she brought the party to us. I spent the afternoon cleaning up in a rather relaxed fashion, since the house was already in pretty good shape from Tristan's party the week before(which deserves its own post). It was remarkably un-stressful to clean and set the table, then saunter off to my room to put on earrings and a skirt. I wore a shirt too, but I do that everyday so the skirt was really the remarkable bit. Anyway, the point is that in short order Albert and Anna arrived with an impressive array of food and wine and quickly got to work cooking in my nice clean kitchen. We drank some wine and ate some cheese, and eventually sat down in my nice clean dining room and ate an absolutely beautiful meal. So the lesson is this: have parties often to ride the "clean house" wave; have one person clean and someone else cook. So fanatastic.

I busted out my Williams-Sonoma hemstitched linen tablecloth for the occasion. You can't really tell from this picture, but it's the perfect shade of Tirzah-esque orangish-red. It went beautifully with my vintage linen hemstitched napkins I picked up on Whidbey Island over Easter.

This chicken was phenomenal. I trust Anna's food sensibilities enough to trust her to make my birthday dinner without so much as inquiring what's on the menu. I wish I was polite enough not to ask, but I didn't do it out of politeness, I did it out of solid trust. Anna did not disappoint. Just like its maker, the dinner was a parade of rich and wonderful flavors, with the perfect balance of sweet and savory. The chicken was roasted with green olives and whole dried prunes, bay leaves, herbs and garlic. It was an amazing combination, the prunes sweet and syrupy in a dark, earthy way and the bright tang of the olives singing out clear and briny.

Being fully aware of and sharing in my love of lettuce, Anna made a deliciously tart salad of red bib lettuce and radishes. She tossed it with red wine vinaigrette spiked with fresh garlic and finished it off with grated parmesan. It was a perfect salad all on its own, made even more so by providing such great balance to the rest of the meal. The binder was roasted red potatoes, which were so warm and comforting with the chicken.

Dessert was an apple tart and whipped cream, which was pretty much to die for. Anna made her own puff pastry. I had some for breakfast the next day with a pot of very strong French press. And now for something completely different....

Every couple of days, the boys and I got outside and hunt around under logs and rocks. If it's a good hunt, we come back inside with something like this. It's for the chicks, who act as if they've died and gone to heaven. Well, if heaven had bowls full of worms and termites. Which, in chicken heaven, it probably does. If anyone had told me ten years ago that I would be doing this sort of thing, I doubt I would have believed it. But I kind of love it; I get incredible satisfaction out of putting revolting-looking bugs to good use. I give the worms a little begrudgingly though, since I feel like I'm robbing my garden of them. I supposed our next project should be a worm bin....I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to the day when our chicks are big enough to go outside and do their own hunting. It's getting warmer, but they still don't have enough adult feathers to keep themselves warm enough. Soon.

The boys, on the other hand, stay plenty warm. I've changed all the flannel sheets for lighter-weight cotton, pants are rarely seen on the legs around here, and watermelon features prominently in our diet. I find that giving it to them in the bath saves me(and the dining room floor) a lot of grief. I prefer to eat mine with a drizzle of lime juice, but the boys are purists.

While Anna's birthday dinner was outstanding, Aaron still felt the need to take me on a date. My actual birthday fell on a Monday which is a terrible day for a party, so we partied on Friday and then Aaron took me out last night. We went to Purple. I ordered duck. I did not regret it. We also ordered tenderloin skewers and bacon-wrapped scallops. And creme brulee and sea salt caramels. We took a walk along Lake Washington and Aaron tried to talk me into going skinny dipping off the end of the dock. It was a lovely, mild spring evening and we were standing in the shadows. I briefly entertained the idea, but then I dipped my hand in the water and thought better of it; it may have reached 70 degrees that afternoon, but no one told the lake water.

Seeing as how it was early and we were already in Kirkland, we couldn't go home without making a stop at Trellis. I asked if they had tea, and the waiter brought me a black velvet case full of glass vials of tea for me to smell. I went with Earl Grey.

They scored major bonus points by bringing me a piping-hot mug. Aaron had a Manhattan, which was very tasty. We shared some lovely cheeses, and talked about fighting and making up. Aaron teased me about taking pictures of everything I eat. We talked about how happy we both are that we still like each other so much. Aaron gave me the cutest, tiniest mp3 player complete with fancy ear buds and an arm band so I can listen to music when I go running. I felt very loved and celebrated. And then we went home and slept really, really well.

Easter 2010

We continued our Easter tradition of going to Whidbey Island with my cousin Kayleigh's family. A good time was had by all, despite a brief power outage which occurred just before putting dinner into the oven. Luckily we were having fish, so Aaron started the grill and we lit some candles and all was not lost. For the boys' baskets this year I tried a new project: felted wool eggs. I'm in love. Aaron doesn't find them quite as charming as I do, but Kayleigh liked them so much that she asked me if she could have the green one. Of course I said yes. I experimented with little treasures to go in the eggs, but in the end I decided the miniature rubber duck was more satisfying. Jack and Matteas were quite appreciative of their mama's crafty efforts. I got the instructions here and they worked perfectly, though I took the added step of tossing the eggs into a hot dryer. And then we had an egg hunt in the wind. No one seemed to mind although it did result in some eggs finding rather unusual hiding spots, having been blown way off course by surprise. I'm a huge fan of Jack's budding fashion sense. It's really more about practicality than anything else; if he wears pants or long sleeves, he complains that he's too hot. Also, he is constantly losing his socks so the boots come in handy a lot. I know I know, we're quickly becoming "that" homeschool family(next fall, anyway): organic vegetables, homemade hummus, chicks in the house and galoshes on the kids. We're going to do our best to stay hip. Matteas doesn't really remember Easter eggs from last year. Once he got wise to the fact that they were filled with candy, he quickly decided he was more than content with the eggs that were already in his basket and abandoned the field of possibility in favor of a Sure Thing. I put most of their candy away for later, but allowed them each a few small pieces. As always, I deeply regretted it. Sugar is like poison for Jack, and he quickly transforms into a completely different child than his usual self. Things got ugly. There were tears and, thankfully, an early bedtime. Next year I'll get more creative with the egg filling and avoid the jelly beans and the sugar crash. Now I must away to my filthy house which I'm trying to resurrect in time for a dinner party Friday night, and crossing my fingers that no one catches the stomach flu we were exposed to yesterday.