this moment

Linking with SouleMamma and many others:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

 

this moment {sunset}

Linking with SouleMamma and many others:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Wishing you a beautiful skies weekend!

feeding the masses

We thought food might be the "thing."  You know, the thing that would cause tension or arguments or our need to bail on this endeavor of cohabitation.  After all, we were two different families each with their own well defined eating habits.

Our habits include eating whole foods, not processed - buying only items not individually packaged or ingredients rather than convenience products.  Vegetables and fresh bread - whole wheat at that.  Pork and chicken when we choose to include meat.  Of course our meal concept extends way beyond the food we eat, but also on what we eat.  Reusable plates, cups, clothe napkins, wash clothes for cleaning spills, and so on.

My sister's family accustomed to white bread, white bagels, sugary cereals, and meat - red meat - and lots of it.  Fresh vegetables and fruit.  The top requests of her children - Nutella bagels and mac-n-cheese (Kraft, duh).

There would require compromise and flexibility to be sure.  So, the white bread found its way into my pantry as did the sugary cereals.  My children were absolutely delighted.  And for a few days ate like they had never eaten before - Lucky Charms, Cocoa Crispies, white bagels, crackers, cookies.  They were in their glory.  To my pleasant surprise, the novelty wore off quickly.

New foods were introduced to both families and we all found new favorites - tofu tacos and pot roast with mash potatoes.  A myriad of fruits and vegetables (raw and prepared) were served at every meal with few leftovers to be packaged and stored.  

Though the phrase "I don't like that" or "My mom says I don't like that" squeaked out on occasion, I think we can count our menu planning a success!

Once the menu was planned and the meal prepared we settled into our favorite time of day - dinner on the driveway.  With eleven mouths and a dining room to serve six, we had to be creative.  Card tables and patio tables, table cothes, cushions, gliders, and more. Each night we transformed our driveway into a dining room (which of course became the friendly talk of the neighborhood)!  The garage made perfect shelter on the rare event of rain.

I'd forgotten how hot Texas is and how new this experience would be for my sister's littles.  We did so enjoy the outdoor meals, with dinner segueing into wonderful outdoor play - soccer, chalk, bikes and scooters.  This time treasured as the rare moment for grown ups to talk, sometimes leisurely, sometimes not. 

The dinner table has always conjured up a feeling of love - the place for rest, sustenance, conversation, connection, laughter.  A place where the world disappears and all that really matters in our lives is sitting right there with us.  I'm thankful we allowed dinner to remain a sacred space, not allowing the things that could divide us to define this time together. 

Oh we did honor. every. single. minute.

how does your harvest go?

There isn't much success to share in the way of our garden this year.  I understand it has been a tough year for growing vegetables and we are well aware of the hot and dry weather as well.  

Anyone who gardens in the midwest, knows these photos are a few weeks old:

Though a few weeks ago much of our planting showed promise, we've since lost rows of collard greens, brussel sprouts, and broccoli.  The leaves completely browned and went limp following the first heavy rain of the summer.  The green bean plants have large holes, but are hanging in with a small harvest.  The cucumber plants never really grew beyond the starter plant and somehow are buried in straw, but are giving us a cucumber or two anyhow.  The corn tasseled out before it reached four feet tall and the tomato plants are filled with green tomatoes, though the plants are beginning to brown and weaken and red doesn't seem in our color pallet.  Oh sigh...

There is one vegetable we always seem to grown successfully despite the weather and rain, despite the soil condition and weeds: zucchini.  I give thanks for this hearty little plant which makes even the newest of sowers a success.  I also give thanks for the many, many different recipes to make good use of this harvest.  

We've had zucchini pie (like apple pie), zucchini flat bread, zucchini bake (like a quiche), fried zucchini, grilled zucchini, and steamed.  Tonight we are trying zucchini soup (will gladly share the recipe if it goes well).  But, there is one good old stand-by of a recipe which makes my summer harvest complete - zucchini bread.  I use Paula Deen's recipe with a few minor changes: 1 1/2 cups Truvia baker's blend instead of sugar, no sugar added applesauce instead of vegetable oil, and Hodgson Mill's white whole wheat flour instead of enriched flour.  Always a success!

While not a success in the yield, there is much joy in the sowing, watering, waiting, and watching.  And I really do mean joy.  This year, the joy came to me in a surprising treat as well - a gift given by Peace on my office wipe off board:

I may not have the harvest I'd hoped for.  At least I know I've successfully planted the seed.

this moment {birthday surprise}

Linking with SouleMamma and many others:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Wishing you a weekend filled with many moments worth celebrating!

these two little ladies

In our brimming home this summer were two amazing little girls filled with personality and life.  It's funny how similar these two are.  It's perplexing what a challenge they can both be to their parents.  It's confounding how intensely they experience life - both confident and strong-willed, both vivacious and spirited, both joyous and determined.

So to see these two interact, I imagine, would be a developmental psychologists dream.  Fortunately, my sister and I are not psychologists so we could simply enjoy the wonder of this pair.

During their visit, these two were inseparable.  And their pretend play was interactive, imaginative, playful and simply wonderful.  What amazed me was how little they relied on grown ups; not for problem solving, not for ideas, not for supplies, not for affirmation or assurance.  Dress scarves became skirts, sticks became wands, rocks turned into gems, boxes into cameras.  Their imaginations worked with synergy yielding hours and hours of fun and entertainment.  

A favorite theme was playing house - you be the mama and I'll be the baby.  They traded roles and, at times, included the younger brother in their play.  They took turns bossing him around to be sure.  They put baby to bed, dressed him, bathed him, rocked him, fed him.  So fun to see them emulate their every day observations of parenting.

Perhaps my favorite moments, however, were the moments of conflict.  Conflict management and mediation are my thing.  It's what I do at work, often, and I really enjoy helping others come to understanding.  Much to my dismay, I've noted that fewer and fewer college students come equipped with skills for conflict.  But, not these two.  

Here's what you might hear if you were a fly on the wall:

          I'll be the mama and you be the baby.

          No, I want to be the mama today.

          I'm older so I get to say who is the mama.

          But you were the mama yesterday.  It's my turn.

          (Voices rising) I don't want to play with you if I can't be the mama.

          If I can't be the mama you won't be my cousin anymore.

          I don't like you anymore.

          (Tears) I want to be your cousin because I love you and I will miss you if you are not my cousin.

          (Pause) Okay.  I want you to be my cousin too.  You can be the mama today, but I'll be the mama tomorrow.

Listening. Explaining. Naming feelings and fears.  Honest. Open. Compromising.

It seems to me that even every day grown ups can learn a lot from the play of these two little ladies. Nope, no developmental psychologist needed.  Just a little presence and listening and meaning making.  Just a little of our every day.

one important lady

My sister and I had quite a good time planning and dreaming the events of this summer.  There were so many possibilities to create fun and memories for our children.  While there were certainly some dreams that couldn't fit in, there was one summer plan that couldn't be missed.  A priority it was!

You see, there is a lady - a very special lady - who is responsible for this whole mess of aunts and uncles and cousins.  My sister and I call her Grandma.  She's also known as Great Grandma (because she is great says my son), Ma (in the way only Italian children can pronounce), Betty to her friends, and Bea by my grandfather.

She's a feisty old lady, she is.  She's outlived most of her friends.  She's prays each day for God to bring her home and she really means it.  

She's not too old to scold us or to tell us how it is or to offer her opinion of the world today.  And she's not too timid either. We all chuckle when another bends the first knuckle on the pointer finger and gives it a wag in imitation.  We call it The Betty.

But she's not too old to be generous and this is what we will remember most.  You can be sure that you will be fed for even the shortest of visits to her home.  You'll never leave empty handed.  And my children know to expect a small bag of pencils or snacks when she visits us.  Generous with gifts, but generous with her spirit.

More than food or trinkets, we can also count on her to listen with kindness, to laugh with hardiness, and worry with compassion about each one of us, and to love with all she is.  You see, while we made her a priority during this summer of ours, she's made us a priority our whole life.

welcome back letter

It's been so long, my friends.  And a busy, busy summer since I've last written.  It occurred to me as I sat at the computer that it was just officially summer the last time I wrote anything of substance.  Now summer is over, despite the fact that the calendar says there are five weeks left to enjoy.  (I work in higher education, so my summer ends the day the first set of student athletes arrive to campus.)

As the last few weeks raced by, I thought often of this space and my few faithful readers.  I've missed you much.  I've missed the loving and supportive comments of this space.  I've missed the understanding.  I've missed the opportunity to use words in my own process of meaning making.  I have to be honest, though.  I would not have traded a. single. moment. of my summer for the opportunity to write more.

Writing has given me the gift of considering the present: stopping long enough to ponder what each moment means and putting each story on paper so the moments take on a life of their own.  But this summer, I lived in the moment.  For. the. first. time. of. my. life...

I know this because I did not think of work when I was home with my family.  

I know this because I have hundreds of memories that keep playing on the screen of my mind - the sound of two girls arguing and solving their conflict; the mimicking of teaching in their makeshift classroom; the modeling of outfits complete with bracelets and necklaces and high-heeled shoes; the red-eyed, wet-haired exhaustion of children who spent the day in the pool; the sweet chatter of cousins at bedtime; the silly songs with lyrics made up by older and younger children alike; the snuggling; the quiet walks around the pond (yes, with all 8 children).

I know this because my heart leaps at Mr. Man impersonating his younger cousin. I feel the pang of excitement when my text tone sounds, hoping it will be a picture or a greeting or an update about the daily goings-on of my sister and her children.  I know this because I share any news with my husband and children and they are equally excited and interested.  Together, we share our goings-on with them.

I know this because I've learned so much about myself and my own children that I would have never realized without this summer.  Things like I can survive without being in complete control or Peace and Pie thrive in very social environments, while Mr. Man and I need some quiet alone time often or I may worry about choices my sister makes, but they are hers and they are made with thought and care and love, as are mine, each in the hopes of meeting the needs of our families, neither exactly right and neither exactly wrong.

So, I hope you'll understand my absence.  I hope you'll return to read my musings again.  And I hope I'll bring something different to this space because of the difference this summer has made in my real-time life.

Peace,

G

this moment {farewell}

Linking with SouleMamma and many others:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

What an amazing summer it has been and now it is time to say farewell.  In the weeks to come, I hope to share much of what we experienced with our larger family.  There is so much and it is hard to know where to begin.  I suppose it should be said simply: we are grateful for every moment together and are sad that it has come to an end.


More to come...