inside

Just a few pictures. No*ah got into the box of photos from the bookshelf in the guest room. This is the scene we came upon when Quiet Time was over. He had some splainin' to do, but so did we. Turns out, there was life before he was born!


Every time we go to the park, No*ah gets himself spinning too fast on a tire swing or something and freaks out, and Ollie spends as much time as he can upside down. After the long winter, I'd kind of forgotten about Oli*ver's fearlessness.


There is a thin line between cuddling and wrestling in our house.


This bed, now in our guest room, belonged to Jo*el's grandmother Eloise. We're attempting to see that it survives another generation, but can make no guarantees.



No*ah clearly hasn't inherited my (Mink*ke's) marginal fine motor skills; I'm amazed at how neatly he prints.




Dancing to the Music Tog*ether CD:


Olive*r is kind of a couch lizard sometimes. He loves to cuddle on the couch under a blanket watching everyone else in the house do their thing. I join him whenever I can.

blooms, birds, and boys

We went to the Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden again this past weekend for an afternoon hike. The boys had a lot of steam to run off after a morning art class, during which I had coffee with a friend. Do you know how long it's been since I could just have coffee with a friend on a Saturday morning? Heaven. The boys do love their class - they are so into drawing and painting right now, it reminds me of when they learned how to walk, and I'd go in to them at night and see their little legs still moving. They've been through a sketchbook each in a week. Now if they could stick to paper 100% of the time instead of about 95%, we'd be golden.



Being in a woodland garden is always a shock to me in April. Our gardens are still coming up and little is blooming, but this garden is full of gorgeous native blooms.





Ollie loves the "straws" - (hollow reeds). I had to remind him of the incident last year where he sucked up a mouthful of bog water through one.











The last quarter of our walk was rather brisk, as Noah confessed to having some urgent business to attend to. The boys were very excited to tell everyone (including their Sunday School teacher today) that there was room for all of us.



I may have mentioned this, but we've been really into bird watching this spring, mostly out our front window. Oli*ver especially can identify several, including their calls, which is a lot of fun. They're also studying birds and nests in school, so it's a common topic these days. In another year, we may be able to see them at the garden without scaring them away before we get to them.

dirt

Somehow, not too much time seems to go by before I'm thinking and writing about gardening much of the time again. We’ve been spending a lot of time in the garden over the last couple of weeks. It’s interesting to see how the boys have adjusted to being outside and all that comes with it. We spent very little time outside this winter, due to a combination of colds, a lot of high-pollution days, and extreme cold. Any of those 3 things mean that O*liver’s asthma will be affected, and that pretty much covered the winter. So while we are definitely an outdoorsy family, loving to garden and hike and spend hours at the park, sledding and skating have not really been our thing. Olive*r’s asthma is getting better, though. We tried (per his ped's advice) to take him down to one neb per day, and that didn't work out, but he’s done better with colds this winter. He’s running around like the energetic four-year-old he is, and we’re not hearing as much coughing (he doesn’t wheeze, but coughs with asthma). Next winter should be even better.

But because we’ve hardly been outside for months, it’s all kind of new again. In the first few muddy days that it was warm enough to go outside, the boys were really sensitive to getting dirty. “Where did my mud-and-nature-loving boys go?”, I thought, as they complained about muddy fingers and slightly wet pant cuffs. In another week or so, though, they were back to mucking in the compost, splashing in puddles at the Tamarack Bog, playing in the leaves I raked up, and ignoring their dirty knees and hands. They’ve also been watching the birds, especially the cardinal pair that has spent a lot of time in our lilac and pussywillow bushes, and watching for the bulbs we planted last fall to pop up.

Yesterday was another planting day – we have peas, spinach, garlic, and onions in the ground, and yesterday we added lettuce seeds. After having run around with their trucks and playing “sea boat” on the hideous plastic structure that will likely be with us for another season, they became interested in what I was doing. N*oah asked to help prep the bed, and carefully broke up the soil with a hand rake. It took him a long time while I sifted compost 20 feet away, and he carefully broke up section by section, his brow furrowed in concentration. I filled the wheelbarrow with compost—oh, do I have a ton of gorgeous compost this year!—and the boys took turns throwing it into the bed by hand.

That was a mad giggle fest, and about 80% of the compost landed where it was supposed to. Then the boys took turns raking it in and smoothing the soil. I helped No*ah make furrows with a stick, and he and O*liver took turns taking tiny lettuce seeds from my hands and dropping them in the furrows where I’d point. Mid-way through planting seeds, N*oah looked at the seed in his hand, and then looked at me with genuine shock. “Mama!”, he said. “This tiny seed is gonna be a whole lettuce plant!” I told him that I think about how amazing that is every time I plant, and that it never ceases to feel like a surprise when the seeds turn into seedlings, and the seedlings turn into plants, and the plants feed us. He was grinning from ear to ear and doing that little puppy-like wiggle I love. Then Oliv*er happily watered everything while No*ah got the chickens back in the coop with a little tossed corn. We were all in a great mood for the rest of the evening, and they were very proud of their helping. And, wow – they took longer than I would have, but they did some real work, work that’s hard on my back. I got to sit and lean against the coop with some seeds in my hand.

Gardening with kids isn’t always like that, of course. I’ve learned that most of all, they need to be able to come to me. They don’t respond nearly as well when I have a fixed agenda of what we’ll be doing—that “project” mindset is much more effective for adults than young children—and sometimes they do their own thing entirely, or interfere, or even act up. Sometimes I’m just not quite patient enough to let them have enough control to really have fun and feel included. But I would gladly deal with several such afternoons for just one like yesterday’s, and that magic does happen regularly. We enjoy our time together, the boys learn a lot, and most kids eat better when they help to grow what they eat. I hope it continues to be interesting and fun for them, but I’m not going to spend a lot of energy on that-– I’m just going to make it available to them on a regular basis, and hope for the best. They’re also finally old enough where I can say, “I’ve got to get some compost on those garden beds. We’re going to go outside and play after your snack.” They can understand that I have something I've actually got to get accomplished whether or not they choose to be involved. I can even get out there ahead of them and give them some extra time to get their rain boots on. And then what kid doesn’t like playing with a hose, or a wheelbarrow, or foraging for peas, or throwing a little dirt?

Part of what I love so much about gardening is the constant reminder that I can do my best, nurture the soil, allow proper access to light and air, arrange things in a wise partnership of plants, encourage the good bugs to discourage the bad, but ultimately, the control isn’t mine, but God’s. God is the designer, the bringer of sun, and wind, and rain, warm air and cold. God is the reason I’m even here, digging under the spring sun and believing that the plants will come up and the flowers will bloom. I am a worrier, and a bit of a control freak and it’s easy for me to act as if I am the sole actor in my life. These days, everything feels out of control as people both far and near to me suffer due to the state of our economy. Like a lot of people, I crave control and certainty in these times. But, ultimately, I don’t control anything entirely, including the final outcome of my best efforts, hard as that can be to accept. And sometimes our failures—and our collective hard times— lead to unexpected blessings, and the opportunity to grow and learn and we (or who and what we love) are eventually better off for them. That is as true for parenting and life in general as is it for gardening, and I cannot think of a more peaceful and satisfying way than growing something green and nourishing to be continually reminded of that. God, my boys, and I make good gardeners together, our hands in the dirt touching God’s hand in creation and knowing we are as blessed as anyone can be, right here and right now.

never let it be said that we don't make time for fine dining...

(For the record -I SO did not see this coming! My plans were to ask Ollie a couple of questions for the camera. The boys ate all last summer with hens running around, and the ladies never so much as took a good peek at what was on the table. We like to have the hens out while we're there too to protect the ladies from the hawk that's been hanging out in the alley cottonwood tree. You missed the part where Noah runs up and Coco skids into his milk and dumps it all over his front. No*ah cried from the shock, but Ollie laughed so hard he had trouble catching his breath.)

"soaking dirty"

I have a "new to me" camera, and it has video, so I can post these little clips every now and then. "Soaking dirty" is such an Oliverism.

Happy Easter!

flood

It was a beautiful, if chilly day here today. Jo*el, who knew I needed a bit of a "kid break" today, took the boys out for dinner while I cleaned the chicken coop. That may not sound like a "break", but I actually really enjoy that task--it's easy and satisfying to see the girls in their clean digs, clucking gratefully around my heels, birds chirping and the sun shining. They are a very tame and friendly flock, rushing to me when I go outside, laying 4-6 eggs a day.

Lately there has been a Cooper's hawk hanging out in the giant cottonwood tree behind us, so we've not let the ladies out much, and only with the dog there. Ivy is terrific around the hens--very tame, and an effective lookout for danger. Unfortunately, she also has cancer, and will be having surgery in a couple of weeks. We are hopeful. We couldn't ask for a better family dog, and really hope to have her a few more years.

As I was scanning the sky for the hawk, I remembered yet again that some friends and family not too far from here have their own, far greater lurking danger to contend with. The Red River is flooding a large area in Minnesota and North Dakota, and hundreds of homes are under water or in danger. The area has been declared a disaster area, and the National Guard has been called in to help the hundreds of volunteers. Hundreds of people are now being evacuated. Jo*el has family in the area, and we have friends there too, and we know they're helping sandbag and to feed the volunteers.

It feels odd going about our business here when we know you're dealing with all this craziness just a few hours away. You are in our prayers. I know that people stick together and help each other out in that part of the country, and to whatever extent the worst damage is prevented, that will be why. May the dikes hold over the next few days, and everyone stay safe. And we do have an extra room available should anyone need it.

growing

The boys’ 4th birthday is in less than two weeks. My mom is coming a week from tomorrow. Before then, I hope get the next set of seeds in their pots, finish organizing the new downstairs guest room, have a piano moved in there, and paint much of our downstairs trim. It’s going to be an interesting week. Or, maybe I'll just get lost in one of the giant potholes that seem to want to be our next 10,000 Lakes, and then I'll be off the hook...

I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that No*ah and Oli*ver are almost four. How does this happen? They are growing like weeds right now. We're doing an extended family party, and as requested, lots of balloons, one cake and one apple pie, and a potluck meal. J’s brother Mar*k will be in from Boston, and my mom will be with us too. She hasn't missed a birthday yet.

We had Ollie in for a speech evaluation yesterday, and will be starting speech therapy at the U of MN soon. They did a test where he described what he saw on a page, over 30 pages or so, and graphed all the speech sounds he made on a kind of chart. I realized as I was sitting there just how often he can’t be understood and how often I probably translate for him. Even his brother does this. He was such a sweetie during the whole thing, animatedly describing the scenes on the pages with some extra adjectives and a little narrative thrown in for good measure. He has real gifts with language, I think, and sometimes I wonder if he’ll have a gift for writing someday. It wouldn’t surprise us at all—his descriptions of things are so interesting and lovely, and he really has a sense for how a story is put together, though you wouldn't necessarily know that if you can't understand him. Indeed, the therapist said, “His expressive and receptive language skills are way, way above average.” She also did a physical exam of his face and the inside of his mouth, feeling the muscles, looking at his tongue and teeth while he said various words, etc. His problem, it turns out, is with low muscle tone in his face. Over time, he’s compensated for that low muscle tone by tensing his facial muscles and moving his tongue too forward in his mouth, which makes certain speech sounds difficult or impossible. She was very optimistic that she could help, because he was so responsive to her, and a lot of sounds are emerging right now. He has a slight occasion stutter that is accompanied by facial tensing and grimacing (and therefore not related to the common 3-year-old stutter that’s more related to needing additional processing time at that age). This is related to the muscle tone issue as well, and could become a real problem without some therapy. So, it will be about a month before his first weekly 1-hour appointment. Meanwhile, he’s supposed to drink with a straw (a hard one, not the silicon sippy cup kind we’d been using) and use his lips and not his teeth to do it, do some speech sound exercises with me focused on the S sound and the SH sound for now, and get plenty of time to finish his sentences. We feel good about things (though I won’t lie –I was still half-hoping they’d laugh us out of there). The therapist is truly wonderful, and that will help a lot. We can't wait for everyone to understand all the great things he has to tell you. If you want to help him out, don't talk too fast so he hears all the speech sounds you're modeling for him, and patiently let him finish his sentences. It's OK, even good, to gently ask him to repeat himself if you can't understand what he said. He’d grow out of his speech issues without therapy, but he’d miss a lot meanwhile, and that’s the real issue. He’ll miss being taken seriously by peers and adults alike, being able to ask a follow-up question with confidence, having any confidence in maintaining social interactions, and so on. A little of that is happening now. His therapist said that at age four and later, being poorly understood can become a real confidence/self-esteem issue. But he'll be fine - he's a quirky kid, but lovable and bright and one of the two lights of our lives. If you talked to him today, he'd tell you that pink is still his favorite color, and his favorite book is still "The Reader's Digest Guide To Home Improvement".

Ollie was a bit miffed at finding this “dead fishie” on the counter, but he loved the smoked-whitefish salad it made, the little hypocrite.




One of our calmer arsenic hour moments:


I’ve been making our own yogurt from milk this winter t save a little money. We can easily spend $9 or so a week on yogurt otherwise, and it's a lot less to make our own. I'll share the info here in case it interest anyone. We have a warmer, and it makes great yogurt overnight. Oli*ver in particular clearly prefers it over storebought, and tells me I make the "best yogurt in the world". It doesn’t take much time, though there are a million conflicting recipes, and you have to find what works for you. We use starter (but might switch to using yogurt soon), and I add a little gelatin powder because I like it a little thicker than I can otherwise get it. You can also use nonfat dry milk powder as a thickener. I heat the milk to between 109 and 112 degrees, then add the starter and gelatin. Some people boil the milk, but most seem to agree that pre-pasturized milk is already sterile enough. (Waiting around for the milk to cool back down to exactly 112 is a pain, too.) Then it goes, uncapped, into the warmer over night, and into the fridge the next morning for a few hours to set. It takes me less than 15 minutes or so to make a couple of quarts, and I just clean up the kitchen while the milk warms, so it's really less. Winter feels like a great time to learn a new indoor skill like that.

But winter will end someday, as fantastical as that starts to feel every Minnesota March (it was -3 degrees when I walked the three blocks from my car to work today!), so I've got some of our seeds going for the vegetable garden.

That below is my seed box. I think if our house caught on fire, I'd wake Jo*el, grab the boys, then the animals, then my seed box. In that order, of course. It's always so amazing to look over those seeds and think of all the life that will come from them to sustain us over the summer and beyond.

it runs in the family

The boys have had a couple of baby dolls since they were about 18 months old, and played with them on and off, but mostly they've used their stuffed animals, called "stuffies" at our house, for domestic-related role play. Dinosaurs having meals, an owl and a teddie bear coming over for lunch, that sort of thing. They adore their stuffed animals, and treat them with tender care. Lately, though, they've been talking more about babies, and how they're going to become daddies when they grow up, and they've been paying a bit more attention to their 2 dolls. Ol*iver in particular, says these two are his twins, named "Pinky" and "Stinky". I find it interesting that he named his twins after two of his very favorite things: the color pink, and all things potty-talk related...


No*ah, for his part, took Stinky's dress off and put it on one of his bunny stuffed animals (not one of the 2 favorites, but another one he quite likes). He added a jingle bell collar, and was quite proud of the ensemble. He's back to devotedly carrying his 2 favorite bunnies around, but he also now has "Pretty Lady Bunny", and tells me she's "lovely".

When the kids aren't around, we may or may not have been known to refer to the pretty lady by the less genteel term "Bondage Bunny". Below is the pretty lady in her natural state. Now, some of you already know this, but my mother-in-law K*athy killed a bunny a few years ago by throwing a hose attachment at it to shoo it out of her garden. She hit it right between the eyes, and it fell over dead. She did essentially the same thing to a squirrel years before that. She was probably the one that got picked first for the church softball games, don't you think?

Last summer, I stopped by with the boys to water Kathy's garden or something, and as we were leaving, I notice this bunny still lying on her front walk. I almost picked it up to take it back home, but instead, I wrote "the bunny killer strikes again", and left the note and the bunny on the sidewalk. She was, thankfully, appreciative of my twisted sense of humor.

Slightly inappropriate fun with dolls and stuffed animals: that's our family. I admit we are easily amused.

changes

I realize that this possibly sounds both trite and redundant, but I simply cannot believe how very fast my boys are changing. Lately, it’s their love of music that has been especially evident. Both boys love to sing, but O*liver has also been very interested in the harmonica and piano lately. If he can get No*ah to leave him be for a few minutes, he carefully plays notes on the piano, going up and down the keys, seeing what happens when he holds 2 keys down or plays with more than one finger. We kind of have an idea that we’ll have Ollie take piano lessons and Noah on the violin, so maybe that’s an encouraging sign. He also plays the harmonica rather nicely, making very deliberate little tunes and trying to play the same pattern of notes over and over. It’s a lot of fun to watch him experiment, but a bit frustrating to see how often he gets interrupted by No*ah in the middle of his playing. I’ve been explaining a bit about the piano here and there to both boys—what an octave is, playing scales and so on. At this level, we’re not yet at the point where J’s expertise is that much more relevant than mine. We were talking about “middle C” the other day, and N*oah asked why “C” is in the middle, and not “A”, like in the alphabet? I didn’t really have a good answer for him, so he said, “I just think the notes people should talk to the alphabet people”.

Noa*h is all about singing, rhyming, and making up lyrics right now. He’s really quite good at it, making up simple songs, or creating entirely new lyrics for tunes he knows, in key. He’s imitating Joel and I, who do that all the time, and have since they were born, singing to ask them to come set the table, take a bath, and so on. It is so much fun to watch him do the same thing. Ollie is in the middle of a major creative streak as well, especially with storytelling. I can’t wait until he can write, because he has a fabulous imagination. He’s suddenly singing more or less in key too. And everything that I’m describing here has happened within the last couple of months!

Something both wonderful and also a little concerning is their connection as sibling twins. They are so into each other right now, and often quite loving.

They show concern for the other’s wellbeing, and if they hurt one another in some way, they’re often quite remorseful. The problem is, they don’t ever really want to be apart. As in, at all. I’m a little worried that this is going to be more of an issue, as even now, the little time they have apart is punctuated by regular request to be reunited with the missing twin. Their preschool doesn’t have the option for them to be apart, so that isn’t a place they can practice separating. We will likely separate them for kindergarten, but if they end up going to all-day kindergarten, that will be such a massive all-at-once change. Oy. The school district is changing all it’s school choice options and possibly re-zoning all the neighborhoods for the fall the boys start school (fall of 2010), and all the possibilities are making my head spin. We’ve also applied at a private Montessori that would have separate class options but still allow some interaction between them (and they’d go there starting in the fall), but getting them in there is a real long shot. We’ll know a lot more in April, and looking at all the options over the next year will likely be a consuming task.

Yesterday, N*oah irritated Ollie somehow, and Ollie said, ‘you don’t know everything, N*oah!”. He was facing away from Noa*h, and Ivy (our dog) ran past No*ah and stepped on his bare leg. N*oah started to cry, because it hurt, but Ollie misunderstood and thought he’d caused Noa*h’s reaction. He ran to Noah, threw his arms around him, and said, “No*ah! No*ah! You know many of the things to know!”

They don’t fight so terribly much at all, but they did receive a single balloon from someone else's party a while back that caused some bickering and possessiveness. Their big request for their actual birthday is “Many, many silver balloons with helium!” Here, it was Ollie’s turn, and he held onto his balloon even while he napped. (A nap is a rare event around here unless someone is sick, but he was.)

And did you know that blue and yellow make green and that red and yellow make orange? The boys have been telling everyone they meet about this new information.

still laughing

That was one saucy squirrel--it had been teasing Orbit for a good half hour before he made his move. I just missed the shot of the squirrel slamming into the window and Orbit hissing and howling and slamming back from the inside.

Poor Orbit. He's sulking now. I think the experience rather diminished what was left of his manhood...