Eureka!

I've discovered a foolproof method of getting my kids to eat absolutely anything I want them to eat - the catch? The invention - and patent - is impossible.

I have always marveled at Aidan's willingness to eat anything that grows outside. As a toddler, Aidan refused most vegetables - except the cherry tomatoes we grow on the deck, and the ones from my parents' garden. Sun-ripened, warm from the sunshine and the heat of the day, Aidan would eagerly eat one after another, and clearly his preference also included eating them with Grandpa.

In California last summer on the Vanoni farm, Leo and Aidan both grazed from sun up to sun down on the plethora of foods the farm has to offer - plump red strawberries; luscious, full blueberries; mouth-puckering lemons; gorgeous green avocados like nothing you'll ever see in an East coast store. Sometimes, Leo didn't even discriminate between ripe and unripe: if he could pick it, he would eat it. It was every mother's dream.

I nearly fell of the trail last month when we were hiking with my brother and his family. Aunt Linsey found wild arugula growing, and although lettuce has never crossed the child's lips before in his life, Aidan could not get enough of the wild greens.

As our humble garden slowly awakens to spring, some perennial herbs have returned, including mint and chives. For some reason beyond all comprehension, both boys love the chives, and munch on them every time we go outside. Personally, I like the chives only as a deer deterrant and for the cute purple flowers they sprout; raw onions make me cranky, and chives are no exception. I am nearly repulsed when the boys come in with their oniony breath after what was supposed to be a quick jaunt up to the mailbox! They always manage a detour by the patch of herbs....

And so, my invention: anything I am hoping to get the kids to eat, I will plant in the ground and grow on a vine. I'm not talking carrots and peas here, I'm talking all the dinners I slave over each night! Pasta Primavera, delicately bursting from thin green vines... Black Bean Enchilladas stoutly springing from thick woody branches.... Curried Chicken curling off straight green stems.... and Seared Salmon spreading like ground cover on the hill. Fine, I'm not actually the next Einstein, but at least I've dished up some interesting food for thought.

Captured

We try to capture the moments
the memory
the way you
put your "imagination hat" on:
a preschool creation lying on the floor,
you scooted your head down to meet its open cap.
only you, in that moment, would think to don the hat at floor level,
like a cat creeping into a paper bag,
rather than simply picking it up and placing it atop your head.

The memory of you, standing tippy toe to select just the right spoon to suit your taste
for your strawberry banana yogurt.
ME do it, you scream
when we try to intervene.
Gearing up to knock the truck off the table, you say
ohnoohnoohnoohno over and over and over again,
your words creating an oxymoron with the delight of the voice and
the crash you are about to make.

The memory of you together
in this moment
two imps in cahoots
giggling over the fort you made with the couch pillows
proud, yes,
and because you got away with it - again.
Laughing over lunch at a joke you know
Mom doesn't get.
And never will.

The memories, we cling to
tell each other about
write down in a journal
attempt to record in a poem
we cling to the exact words you spoke
joke you made
inflection of your voice
expression of your eyes,
your furrowed brow

we think we will never forget
yet the memory of what made our hearts burst with laughter
fades
is replaced with a new one, yes-
but I wish I could have them all.

Mostly, though, I hope you remember-- at least,
I hope you know-
the love
the joy
the adoration
pride
I am paying attention,
I see you
I appreciate you
I love you
I love you all these days

The Tiny Barber of Bearwood

Recently, I got my hair cut. When I got home, I decided the bangs needed to be a bit shorter. I pulled out my trusty home hair cutting scissors and got to work while Aidan and Leo busied themselves playing in the water table in the bathtub. I didn't realize, at the time, that I was being carefully scrutinized as I concentrated hard on not butchering my own hair (as I have occasionally done in the past with such attempts at home grooming.) We were all pretty hungry, so once I dried the kids off and left them to meet me downstairs for a snack, I headed to the kitchen. Aidan came down a short while later, and when Leo did not surface for many minutes, I sent Aidan back upstairs to see what he was doing.

Calmly, Aidan walked back into the kitchen - no running, pounding of feet on the stairs, loud exclamations from the hallway to give me a heads up - and didn't say anything. I said, "Aidan, what is Leo doing? Why isn't he coming down?" Serenely, matter-of-factly, uniterestedly, Aidan replied, "Well, Leo is giving himself a haircut." "WHAT?" came my panicked response. I tore up the stairs, thinking to myself, those scissors are so sharp! what if he pokes his eye out? what about that beautiful hair that is so crazy and lovely? why on EARTH is he cutting his hair? why is Aidan so calm? I LOVE THAT HAIR OF HIS!!!!! I tore into the bathroom and there was Leo, perched upon the lid of the toilet with the scissors deeply embedded in his hair. His face was covered in long strands. Six chunks of long hair lay on his shoulders, chest, and back. His pants were covered with fine strands. First, I wanted to laugh. Then I nearly cried. Finally, I contemplated grabbing the camera, but decided that the positive attention of the photograph would reinforce something that I most definitely did not want repeated. I settled on a firm scolding and reprimand, telling Leo it was danger, only Mommy or Daddy or a hairstylist could cut his hair. Looking up at me with large, puppy dog eyes, he had only one thing to say: Why? Somehow knowing how to stretch that short, one-syllable word into two syllables, in a tone that implied that I had just flung his lovey out the window or some other such horror, in a way that challenged the very idea that what he had done to his hair was nothing short of a masterpiece.

And so we have introduced a new style to our Tiny Barber, and it is the comb over.

A Covey of Cousins!

*I have a kagillion-googleplex pictures from the visit. I only included a few here, but here's a link to the Shutterfly album to view more:
http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AcuGTZs2Ytmt9

In early March, my brother Adam and his family came for a visit! Because a 16+ hour car ride separates us - they live in St. Louis - we do not get to see each other as much as we would like. This was our first chance to meet their son, Julian, born this past June, and their chance to meet Leo, who missed meeting them two years ago by about a week and a half!

The "stair step cousins" are Aidan, 4; Hugo, 3; Leo, 2; and Julian, 8 months. (See how nicely our September baby will fit into this pattern?!) The boys had an absolutely wonderful time together, and it was so much fun to be able to see my children with my brother's children. We have a very small family, and although Adam (7 years my senior) has memories of time spent with our cousins, I do not. My uncle and his wife had separated by the time I came along, and I only vaguely know my cousins. Jeff, on the other hand, has a huge family with tons of cousins his own age. When we visited California last summer, I was so happy to see Jeff with his cousins and to know that my own children had the potential for such happiness, too....

Most of our time was spent at Grandma and Grandpa's house, who seemed positively delighted to have all four grandsons under the same roof. Highlights of our time with them included...

*Tractor rides! Grandpa cleared several paths through their windy 2+ acre lot and gave each trail a name like "Lake Loop," "Lower Woods Trail," and "Hawk's Point Extension." He bought a pull-behind for the tractor - ostensibly for hauling extra dirt and sticks or whatnot, but we know the truth - the padded carpet he throws in for comfort gives away his secret. The boys, sans Julian, usually sat in the back wagon all together, but sometimes one would join Grandpa to help him drive. Once, when no one was looking, I even jumped in the wagon for a ride! After being banged and bumped around, I marveled at how the kids could possibly enjoy this so much. Oh, but anything that is with Grandpa is the penultimate fun time, and what's a bruise or two?
*Dinner at Mellow Mushroom. This is something of a tradition, I guess, dating back to when Adam and Linsey visited when Aidan was a mere two months old. At that visit, Adam fed Aidan a bottle, and I later found out that Aidan was the newest baby either of them had ever held. Two-ish years later, we returned, now with Hugo, and again on this visit with Leo and Julian! The food was great, the beer, even better (from what I hear, at least) and the time we spent as a whole family was so much fun.
*Hiking at our nearby Rivanna trail. Our original plan was to head to Shenandoah, but bouts of stomach bugs and injured backs, plus pretty tired kids led us to revise our plan and stick a little closer to home. We were so, so lucky with the weather that week, and our hiking day was no exception. All of the kids are terrific hikers and clearly love to be outside exploring. Linsey helped us find arugula to eat, which Aidan thought was SO cool, and Adam and Jeff took turns impressing us with their rock skipping abilities. We had a delicious picnic lunch after the hike; it's amazing how much better food tastes when eaten outside and with those you love.
*We shared many great meals together, and I enjoyed hosting a dinner at our house. The kids all wore their "Covey of Cousins" t-shirts that they had decorated earlier in the week, and we even managed to get a picture or two without someone crying in it! Good food, good family, good fun.

"What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life - to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories." -George Eliot

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

My husband and my son are two of the only people I know who truly rejoice and find the sunshine in a rainy day.

In college, before Jeff and I had started dating but when we were close friends, I was lamenting about yet another rainy, dreary, chilly spring day. My mood always seems to be affected by gloomy weather, and that day was no exception. He and I were walking through campus in the drizzle; I was complaining bitterly about the rain. Jeff stopped in his tracks, looked at me and said, "Today's a great day if you're a plant." I'll never forget that attitude, that perspective, that moment when I realized Jeff has a gift for seeing the bright side of a gloomy day.

Fast forward 8 years or so and I find myself in another rainy, dreary, chilly spring day. I am especially grouchy because it is a Saturday, a day that is notorious because of the promise of fun and adventure it holds. It's supposed to be warm, it's supposed to be sunny, why can't the weather cooperate for once? Aidan, on the other hand, is dancing in his pants from excitement. "I get to wear my yellow rain coat today! And my frog boots! And can we go look for worms? And can we make a worm house for them? And it is so good that it is raining because it makes the plants so happy."

And so they set out, Jeff, Aidan, and Leo, outfitted in their brightest rain gear for an hour's worth of worm collecting and rain exploring. Leo did not seem to mind if his "worm" was actually a "stick;" both boys thought that maybe some careful tending could revive a dead worm; and all three of them returned from their expedition rosy-cheeked and exhilirated from their time in the rain. Aidan collected coffee grounds and orange peels for his worms and insisted we bring them to Grandma and Grandpa's house to show them off. Leo demonstrated for me how he held the worm in his hand and proclaimed, "Ew. Dirty!" And Jeff passed on to them tangible evidence, proof that there is sunshine and happiness in a dreary and wet day. (As for me, well.... I still hate the rain. But I saw the sunshine that day, seeing my sons... positively shining in their happiness.)

Pregnancy Ticker

More posts coming soon! A relentless stomach bug has kept us all pretty busy on the Farm these days, but everyone is feeling terrific now...

Here's a cool pregnancy ticker (that seems to be going agonizingly slowly) - it would be even cooler if it showed up automatically like it's supposed to! Ah, technology.

http://www.pregnology.com/preggo-ticker.php?month=09&day=24&year=2009&heading=My+pregnancy&bgcolor=000000&color=777777

The photographs are usually quite amazing - this week, not as breathtaking - and it updates automatically, so check it whenever!

See you in September...

(The answer to the anagram: Be teenier mouse spy)

... our new baby, that is! I am almost 12 weeks pregnant, and the baby's due date is September 24. We are very excited. We are so very thankful.

....and yet of course we are also very anxious during these long weeks. On Friday when we went for my appointment with my midwife, Donna, she was unable to find the heartbeat using the Doppler. I fought hard to control my emotions as the timing of every part of the experience was uncannily similar to when we lost a baby in February 2006. We had to wait two hours until we were able to have an ultrasound, during which we quickly saw and heard the baby's healthy heart beating, watched him or her move around and suck its thumb, and were reassured that the baby is growing just as s/he should. We sobbed our relief, our gratitude, our subsiding fears.

I am full of gratitude and thanksgiving; I know truly what a miracle it is to grow a baby and to nurture a life. I thank God, again and again. And yet my heart still feels heavy, still feels the acute pain of a friend who has recently lost her baby halfway through her pregnancy, of the woman who saw Donna earlier on Friday and shared a due date close to mine, but whose baby had died. My heart is heavy with the pain and grief of so many mothers and fathers who have loved and lost.

In American culture, there is no ritual, no ceremony, little acknowledgment of the death of an unborn baby. Cold medical terms are used to describe the death: it was a "missed abortion;" the pregnancy "was not viable;" a woman might have a "blighted ovum" or a "chemical pregnancy." A death certificate is only issued after the fetus has reached 20 gestational weeks. Even the word "miscarriage" is inadequate, fails to describe the individual loss the way "car crash" or "heart attack" or "cancer" is used. A few years ago, a writer named Peggy Orenstein was being interviewed on NPR. Her story immediately caught my attention; she was speaking about how she finally worked through the grief of her miscarriage, and how she found a channel through which to direct her pain. While traveling in Japan, she learned that women there make an offering to Jizo, an "enlightened being who... watches over miscarried and aborted fetuses."

http://www.peggyorenstein.com/articles/2002_mourning_miscarriage.html

I thought to myself, finally. Here is a culture that ritualizes, creates a ceremony for, acknowledges the acute pain and loss of a lost baby. I truly hope our American culture changes in such a way that women (and the people who love them) are met head-on with validation, support, acknowledgment, and acceptance of their loss, of the death of their child and of a dream that they held. I think about other ways in which we support each other as strangers in this troubling world. We wear pink ribbons to show our support of people fighting breast cancer. We display yellow ribbons to show our loyalty to our soldiers fighting for our country. We put out black ribbons for prisoners of war, multicolored ribbons for support of people with autism, red ribbons for people fighting AIDS, and on and on. While I do not necessarily think that there should be a ribbon for those who have suffered a miscarriage, I certainly see the parallels - the life changing event; the need for support and encouragement; the unfortunate sisterhood one finds herself in; the reminder that we are not alone.