The End of an Era (or is it "Hair-a"?)

We did it. We made the decision to cut our dear daughter's golden locks. On special occasions or on days when we made time to wash her hair, Leah's hair was a sight to behold: long, flaxen strands that curled perfectly at the ends and hung adorably down her back, or a huge pile of dark blond curls, stacked with a clip or elastic band to the top of her head. More hair, as many have stated, than any three year old has ever had. (For a quick reminder, see her here.)

Every other day, like something out of VH1's "Behind the Music" series, it was a daily fight to get Leah to stand still to brush her hair, a repetitive taming of a wild banshee, and, to our poor neighbors, what must have sounded like we were brutally torturing our poor child. I honestly think we gave it our best. We were on a roll for a while putting her hair in a braid or two before bed every night to prevent the persistent rat's nest of bed-head from emerging. Matthew's Mom bought Leah some miracle no-tangle shampoo which really helped, but whose magic only lasted about 24 hours. We even mesmerized Leah with video clips of "funny dogs" on YouTube while we attacked the back of her head every morning.

What it came down to was this: Leah didn't care if her hair was long or short. All she knew of her hair was that Mom makes a big deal of it and it hurts like a son of a gun when it gets brushed! So we made an appointment at the salon within walking distance of our house, I talked to Leah about the hair-cutting process, and we even browsed some on-line videos and blogs about kids getting their first big hair cuts. By the time the appointment rolled around, Leah was psyched, and I was less likely to cry over the whole deal. ;)

The result? Awesomeness. Leah is the proud owner of a classic bob, cut just beneath her ears. She woke up this morning, tangle-free, and I can brush her hair with my fingers! It flips under nicely on one side and does a little ski slope on the other side ... just like her mama's. With a little finessing with the hair dryer, I'm sure we could get both sides to cooperate. Ooops, there I go again with the fussing. :)

For more pics, check out the Pics link on the left.

Grampas

My Grampa passed away just over a week ago. A normally loud, broad-smiled, opinionated man, he was quieted by CHF. Seeing anyone whose life changes so markedly after an illness tends to make me wonder about what it is that makes up that person's character. Did I really even know my Grampa? My most instant memories of him are from summers at the cabin when he would step out quietly before dawn to slip his silver boat into the lake to fish. And at Christmas, the same routine every year, Grampa in his recliner watching us kids open wrapped packages (sweat suits, socks, wrench sets, candles). I had an impression, rather than "real knowledge" of my Grampa. Most kids probably have a similar relationship with their grandparents, but there are those who, for whatever reason, have developed a deeper bond. Perhaps all I needed was a single heart-to-heart conversation with him. Or maybe I'd know him better if I had deer hunted with him like my brothers and cousins had. Or maybe no one really knew him.

I'm not living with regret or sorrow, but rather a mystery of sorts, a little confusion. Just enough of an emotional itch to make me want something "better" for my kids and their grandparents. I do feel like I "know" my parents. And what I know of them (and even things I don't know about them) is what I want my kids to know as well. Someday, I promise, we will live closer to the girls' grandparents. And we'll visit for no reason whatsoever. And I'll try to keep writing about these visits to help jog memories later.

The picture is of Leah sitting in my dad's lap in his radio office. He's helping to record her voice for little intros and sound bites they play during the morning show. On our way home from that trip, we actually heard Leah's voice on air. Her eyes widened and she smiled when she heard it. "Pretty cool," I said to her. She grunted a happy response and kicked her legs.

The pastor at Grampa's funeral read this poem. I know it's been used for every other funeral out there, but it is really nice, and you know I love a good metaphor.

I miss you, Grampa.
I love you, Dad.

The Girls & the Songs They Inspire

I'm sure I'd be tickled to be able to say "The Kids" in reference to our children if we had had a boy instead of a girl, but it is undeniably fun to be able to say "The Girls," or "My Girls" when mentioning Leah and Natalie. I often break into a sappy version of The Temptation's "My Girl," changed of course to "girls," when we're all happy. Oh, and then there's Cindy Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," Motley Crue's "Girls, Girls, Girls," Beastie Boys' "Girls" (without all the naughty bits), and even, when I include myself, "Three Little Maids" from The Mikado.

We learned early on with Leah that almost every song written about a sweetheart, might as well have been written about a baby. Talk about cheesy! I get choked up singing Sheriff's "When I'm With You" when I sing it holding one of my "bay-baaaaay-yay-ee-yays." It doesn't seem to matter that the song will forever bring me back to bear-hug dancing in middle school. I think of my girl, how totally awesome she is, and get flooded with Mommy-love emotions.

And songs that were actually written for children? Dangerous! Even thinking about Paul Simon's song, "Father and Daughter," gets my chin a-quiverin'. And I'm not remotely ready to listen to the all-time classic father-daughter song: Bob Carlisle's "Butterfly Kisses." And I'm the mother!

*sigh* I wonder sometimes why it is that we get all mushy at moments like this. Perhaps it helps us forgive the crayons on the woodwork moments more easily. Ah, that's what pocket tissues are for, right? :)

Our Latest Addiction

Lately, the hubby and I have been enjoying a pot of coffee every few days. Pretty earth-shattering, huh? Considering that I used to make a mini-pot of joe almost every day at school, and Matthew does likewise at work, it shouldn't be a surprise that we both throw back a mug of it frequently in the comfort of our own home. Still, there's something kind of magical, kind of classic Folger's commercially about waking up to so great smelling grog. And speaking of grog, our current favorite has been a one-pound bag of Berres Brothers Decaf Highlander Grogg. (You can buy it on-line here.) It's a local bean company (well, the beans aren't local), so it already feels better knowing we're not buying from the big scary coffee monsters. The aroma alone this brew puts out is worth the price. Almost immediately, your kitchen will smell like a pancake house or Grandma's cookie-making. The flavor won't disappoint either -- we are often tempted to leave out the sugar, it's so sweet. (BB ought to be paying me for this...) Mmmmmm...

Anyway, drinking all this warm, brown goodness, reminded me of a little poem I wrote a few years ago at school. Just a moment of creative perspective.

Coffee Universe

In the midst of morning routine
I stir coffee in an oversized cup.
Froth resembles a galaxy twirling
Frayed edges
Bubbly solar systems adrift
Stars forming, merging, dying
Eons in seconds
The universe in my cup
And me, a god
holding a plastic spoon.

Fun with our digital camera

I discovered the "Accent Color" function on our camera. What fun! I tried picking the blue in the hope that it would highlight Leah's big baby blues, but they are only slightly tinted in this photo. Still, I love the contrast with the greyscale of everything else. Of course when I asked her to smile in this pose, she gave me one from her cheezy collection, so we have to settle for this look. It'll do. :)

All the Rage...Again

Years before I even had an inkling of a care about what I looked like, I wore a knit scarf/hood combo thing. It was the puke-iest color of blue, if blue can be considered puke-y. But, the thing was cozy. The "scoodie" as it has come to be called, is baaa-aack. This time, however, it has been incarnated in more tasteful knit patterns (Michele, you will post pics once yours in done, right?), mod prints, and common sense fleeces.

As my little Kenmore and I are getting to know one another a little more these days, this looked like a doable project.

Ta-da! I made one for the Ba-ba-bear, and one for me. Leah's is a cozy fleece/corduroy number with tassels on the top and fringies on the ends. Mine is made from fleece I bought eons ago for a dress that failed and a decor fabric from the remnant store back home.

Both are deliciously cozy. Practical? Kinda. Stylish? Wait and see. I may just look back on this in five years and laugh enough to keep me warm.

Swing and a Hit!

Milestones happen nearly every week with a new baby. Like any parents, Matthew and I marvel at each of Natalie's latest achievements. The newest is reaching, mostly deliberately, at anything within grasp of those pudgy little sausages. Here, she's fiddling with the toy bar on her bouncy seat. The hairs on the back of my head can also attest to the strength of her grip -- yeowtch!

If we had a dollar for every time someone told us that "kids grow up so quickly," we'd be living in a five bedroom palace by now, but it's true and it's bittersweet. I think the reality of it hits us harder now that we're holding the second of these little miracles. Leah is a little adult, capable of doing more of everything we can do than not. And yet, she's only three. Here, like so many other times, I am in awe at the "workings" of life. How every little step just happens. I am humbled by the process and the complexity and the wonder of the drooling, wide-smiled result.

Doublicious!

This year, instead of grazing on Leah's stash of Halloween loot over several months, we baked most of the chocolate-y pieces into cookies. Candy Cookies? Yeah it's a bit redundant, and they'll give you an instant sugar buzz, but are they good? Uh-huh. Yup. Mmmm...

(We just used Betty's (as in Crocker) recipe for chocolate chip cookies and substituted chopped candy bars for the chips. Another good idea, especially for just chocolate or chocolate and caramel candies: melt a small piece on top of a small pretzel in a warm oven. When they sweat and sag a bit, take them out and squish a pecan half on each one. Rollos are the best for this: chocolate, caramel, and pretzel -- thass a little bitta heaven, right der.)

I think you just drooled on your keyboard. ;)

I Got Your Back, Ma.

Yesterday, another brilliant, glad-to-be-alive day, we did some yard work. Matthew took the whole back yard into his command, while I tackled the smaller and dog-poo free front yard. Leah was fully content to spend the time playing in the leaves, and Natalie was a trooper in the backpack. This was her second time in the backpack. I took it out the day before to try to appease her while I tore apart a nine-pound organic chicken. She went from crying in her bouncy seat, to crying right next to my ear. Yesterday, however, went much better. I'm sure the scenery was nicer! Just like her big sister before her, Natalie conked right out. I imagine that the camel-like rocking motion of riding on my back paired with the wave-like rhythmic whooshing of me raking leaves helped too.

After raking nearly every conceivable bit of plant debris from the back yard, Matthew gave our hippie yard a crew cut. We both agree, albeit while scratching our chins in amazement, that the yard looks better (greener, fuller, healthier) now than it did back in June! Ahhh... if it weren't for cute babies and weather oddities, what would be talk about?

Open for Business!

Eek! I just opened up my own Etsy shop online! I've wanted to sell my stuff for a long time, but unlike trying to publish my writing, signing up for a pottery class, or putting a seal coat of varnish on the front door, I actually DID this! This may be the beginning of a new me! This could be a historic moment! Bookmark this entry people -- it'll be worth a fortune someday! O.k., maybe not, but it's still a big move for the Beanster. I only listed a couple of items so far. I have to resize my pics first and that takes time. I'm also feeling my way through an old version of Photoshop, trying to bang out a nifty Web banner. Stay tuned.
My biggest hangup was figuring out a shop name. It was hard enough that I had to name our second daughter this year! I liken the process of deciding on an Etsy name to choosing a tattoo. I want it to be personal, clearly descriptive, and have a least a little double meaning to it. Etsy may not be the "be all to end all" service, but it may (wishing on a star) just be my ticket into selling my crafty stuff online, and if (wish, wish, wish) it does take off, I need a name I can carry with me into the big bad world of online sales outside the safe, quilted walls of Etsy. Brainstorming for over two months, sketching logo prototypes, checking availability statuses, and heeding the demand to just pick a gosh darn name and be done with it have lead me to: (trumpet revelry): Crafterall!
I have to give props to my brother-in-law who came up with the name, what, back in August. Nathan, it has stewed to a ripe and sweet flavor. Merci.
With the name selection came the purchase of a brand new Web site, but there's nothing there yet besides some phony site holding text. When that puppy opens (still wishing...), you will hear about, boy howdy.
Well, what are you waiting for? Check it out! Oh, and do tell me if I goofed something. :)