:: demystifying daycare, a plea ::

i had some helpers with me this week since the babysitter was sick (only emily is pictured here, but evan helped too) and it made me remember that i have a question that i'd like to ask everyone. everyone anywhere. i would like about 1000 comments on this post because i'm interested in ALL of the options. 

in the box, out of the box, near the box. this is an invitation for brainstorming.

my kids are in an awesome in-home daycare. but for a list of reasons that is important but not really right for delving into here on the blog, things are going to have to change with the daycare situation and because this change will more or less coincide with evan heading off to kindergarten in the fall,  I NEED TO KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT.

how do you make half-day kindergarten + a younger sibling not yet old enough for pre-school (emily misses the cut-off by days and won't be able to go to preschool until she's a teenager, or so it seems) + a growing self-owned business that requires regular if not 100% full-time daycare?

i mean, on the one hand a nanny seems like the way to go, so evan can come home after school and i can be at work and emily can be taken care of all the while.

but we've tried the nanny situation before and maybe it's just us or something but nannies get sick a lot and then i get mad because inevitably they get sick when brian has court or some such trivial thing and so i have to be the one to ditch work and figure out how to still get the stuff done and have fun with the kids and not resent anyone or anything.

plus i like the idea of them being around other kids because again, maybe it's just me but i find that running a business and being home part time with the kids is not the recipe for tons of playdates. i think we probably end up with like fifteen playdates a year.

but i'm not even sure i have a grasp on what our other options are. here's my list. please add to it in the comments and feel free to (please do!) share your thoughts on making it all work.

OPTIONS:

1. a school-like daycare where the kids are separated into classrooms by age or whatever. this would separate emily and evan.
2. another in-home daycare, but i think this would need to be near home because of the aforementioned kindergarten thing, right? in other words, it would be best located in our school district or else i'd be leaving work in the middle of the day to chauffeur evan, right?
3. a nanny.
4. a shared nanny, like shared with another family or something, so that there could be more kids hanging out and being friends? maybe this is something i invented in my own wishful head.
5. latchkey for evan and something separate for emily. to the very best of my recollection i literally did not know kids with two working parents as an elementary school child, and so to me latchkey was this foreign place in the gym and the cafeteria where the weird kids went (i'm just being honest about my 8 year old prejudices here, folks) and maybe there they did weird things or maybe weird things were done to them? but maybe it's different now? or maybe it was always different? discuss.
6. something different altogether?

daycare mystifies me, my friends. clearly i need your help.

:: the first business trimester ::

it's four now, and i'm just sitting down to work, which on a sunday is pretty much unheard of. usually i toil my sundays away since i have no childcare on monday and only part of a day on tuesday. sundays are important days, work wise.

instead of working i spent 20 minutes on the elliptical and 5 hours sweeping and mopping my house from top to bottom. (note to self: if you are going to spend five hours sweeping and mopping, 20 minutes on the elliptical is kinda irrelevant.)

my work break has much less to do with needing to clean -- let's face it, i clean so seldom that there's basically always a need to do it -- and much more to do with needing to do some business thinking.

it's the same reason i've been absent here on the blog these last 19 days.

i'm thinking. planning. assessing. polling. synthesizing. crunching. fantasizing. gut-checking.

business is slow this month -- because i made it that way. i've taken off random saturdays to sit and stare at my husband, or my in-laws, spent sundays sliding furniture around in order to uncover bunny-sized dust bunnies. i've gone evenings (not many, mind you, maybe even just one) completely computer-free. i've taken long lunch breaks and walks around the block.

sales are way down, of course, but thanks to work i did all year for minted and snapfish, i'm reaping the rewards of the holiday season without much effort at all on my part.

i have my reasons for creating this slow, slow november.

i am at a point in the growth of my business and my family life where i need to figure out what the next few years are going to look like.

brian would like to have a bit more of me on the weekends and has suggested a few times that it might be time to think about a more full-time daycare situation for the kids. and i've also had a business epiphany that pushes the issue further. 

i have a really excellent business plan and i've crunched the numbers and done some market research and floated the idea by friends and colleagues and it's excitingly possible. doable. but to do it right, and it's the kind of thing that really has to be done right, it will require three things:

1. a significant investment - of somewhere around $10-16K - that it will take between 9 and 12 months to recuperate, which I realize isn't bad at all from a business investment standpoint.
2. a dedicated space (i.e. commercial or industrial studio space), which adds to the investment tally and extends the time until break-even.
3. an employee. which, yeah, adds to the investment tally and, right again, extends the time until break-even quite a bit more. this part of the equation also adds the potential for a lot more stress.

i'm not totally good with stress. my tissues seem to be stress sponges, sucking up all the cortisol and adrenaline and other yuckiness and turning them into raw, pulsating panic that strikes when least expected, sometimes even waking me from a dead sleep. 

i am surprisingly okay with issue number one, the investment, but the second two are too big for me to take lightly. they're major. crazy major. to make those two things (a studio, an employee) work with my life, i'd definitely have to up the week-day daycare and in order to compensate, work less on the weekends. i'd be signing myself up for a full-time day job working for myself and being someone's boss.

let me tell you, it doesn't feel great knowing that i have this viable business idea that has the potential to really be wildly successful and that all i need to do to make it happen is commit to it fullheartedly and step up and take the reins and yet i'm sitting here writing a long thinky blog post about it.

it also doesn't feel great knowing that my hesitation is a very female hesitation. something tells me that a man in my position would already have been down to the SBA talking about loans, would have scoped out studio space, would have talked to the woman at daycare about extending the kids' hours, and would be spreading the word about the impending new hire. that i'm not doing those things makes me feel a bit wimpy.

brian is already telling people - you know, family members and such - about my new business plan, which makes me cringe a little bit. or not cringe. wince. like it hurts to talk about it. and hurt i guess it does, because i know he's right that i could easily be racing forward into the wild blue future. 

but there are things i just can't ignore. i can't ignore the fact that i'm a total introvert who isn't exactly jumping up and down at the thought of working day-in and day-out with the same human being, having to communicate each day with that person. having to advise, guide, teach, correct, and listen to carefully enough to make the business - and the working relationship - work.

and i can't ignore the fact that emily is only two and i still want a little bit more time with her. she's at that age where we are starting to be buddies, and i really do not like the idea that i got to share the early buddy years with evan but might choose not to spend them with emily. it's a decidedly motherly thing to worry about, that i won't know my daughter as well as i will know my son, but it's there and its un-ignorable.

so here i sit, feeling so much like a mother in her first trimester who is nervous and excited and bewildered, who doesn't want to tell anyone about the baby yet - just in case. here i sit with a kick-ass plan for a really kick-ass business, one that would be both a new direction for me and a really logical extension of everything i've been doing since november 2, 2008 when all of this started.

if i don't move forward with the plan, i know i'll mourn the loss. i don't know that i can go as far as to compare it to a miscarriage or an abortion, since i've never experienced those, but there will definitely be pain and mourning and the sense that something amazing didn't happen. but while that sounds to some like a reason in and of itself to move forward -- take the plunge in order to avoid the mourning, the pain, the loss, the regret -- to me it's not so clear. avoiding that sense of loss isn't enough to make me ignore the fact that i'm not sure i want the life that bringing this new business to fruition would bestow upon me. the life for me, and for my family.

it's all so damned complicated.

there are some things that i am pretty sure of. 

1. i like working. i wouldn't trade in my job for staying home full time in a million years. i LOVE my kids and i LOVE that we have mondays all to ourselves to just do kid-and-mom-type things. out and about in the old things and here at home things. but i do actually hope to even out my life a bit more over the next few years so that i can do more of my work during "normal" work hours and less at night and on weekends.
2. i like that my job is flexible.
3. if anything, over the years i've wished it would be even a little bit easier for me to take breaks, deal with illnesses, etc.

beyond those things, i think i need to do some more house-cleaning, by which i mean soul-searching. i hope you'll indulge my silence about the specifics of the business while i do so.

and um, yeah, please do stop by my shop, as well as minted and/or snapfish, if you're so inclined this month. you'll be contributing directly to my ability to take the time to figure shit out.

please and thank you good night.

:: mommy's little girl ::

yesterday, while we were sitterless and still recovering from a few days at the lake with my cousins and their kids, evan passed out cold on the couch despite emily's best efforts to the contrary. and so i brought her up to the attic, the farthest we could get from the boy without leaving the house.

the rest of this, well she did it on her own. she got the computer from evan's room. she brought it upstairs. she asked me to put her up on my yoga-ball desk chair. she opened the computer. she made mommy proud:

 

 

it should of course be noted that the only thing emily can intentionally do on this computer besides just mimic mommy is control the volume of the annoying sounds -- louderlouderloudersoftersoftersofterlouderlouderloudersoftersoftersofter.

:: birthday invitations for the boy ::

evan's turning four, and this year we told him he could have four invitations to hand-deliver to the four friends he wanted to invite to the party (when he's five, he'll get five). a digital version went out to our families, but evan was so delighted to have actual mail in his hands.

or, rather, in his backpack. that's where he put each invitation (he calls them, quite appropriately, informations as in, "i've got ruby's information in my backpack"). when possible, he delivered them via red bike with that backpack strapped to his narrow little shoulders.

"it even stays on while i'm riding my bike!" he was heard exclaiming, and "when i grow up i am going to do this on the weekends, ride my bike with my backpack on. do you ever do that on the weekends, mommy?"

alas, no. not often anymore.

and of course in terms of printing these for him i went all out. i like to imagine that after we left each invitation with its recipient, it went down something like this:

"wow. i think evan's mommy used 100% cotton paper."

"and what's the font? it looks like futura but not quite? maybe like a small caps version or something? a little bold? very nice. i wish you could make informations like this for me, mommy, like evan's mommy does."

that's what i'd be thinking anyway.

:: p.s. ::

this is what happens when mommy cleans up that tiny red headed child and releases her from the booster seat but then continues to write that blog post. she's a sneaky one, that emily. didn't even think she could reach that box on the table.

:: a letter to my kids ::

dear kids,

i'm taking a few moments from work this afternoon to write you a little note to let you know how much you both impressed me in the last 24 hours.

emily, you are so brave and so tough. you're just a peanut of a babe, so small that people in public exclaim, "she's too small to be walking!" when really you learned to walk about three months later than most babies we know. but you're so tough. yesterday you played "chase and steal" with evan and me and even though you kept getting bumped and knocked into and even though you never could steal the ball unless i handed it to you or evan and i stopped paying attention for a minute, you just played and laughed and loved it. you didn't cry even though i would totally have cried. perhaps you don't even know to feel left out or slighted yet. perhaps you're not yet aware of balances of power and watching out for the little guy. or perhaps you're just smart enough to know that the fact is, you're smaller than us, and if you want to play some of evan's big-kid games then you're just going to have to jockey for position.

and this morning. oh! emily! this morning you were so brave as we packed up our things to leave the Y after evan's swimming lessons. you were brave enough to venture out across people-traffic in the wide open hallway, yes, but then you were brave enough to let a stranger hold your hand and walk you back to mom. you didn't cry. you didn't try to escape. you didn't even look worried. you simply let this wonderful, grandmotherly woman walk you slowly and surely back to where you were supposed to be. you could see me, but i don't think that's what made it possible. i think a lot of other kids would be all the more upset to have a stranger hold their hand when they could see their own mommy right there ten feet away. i think what made it possible for you to hold this woman's hand - her name was rose, she told you - was just the fact that you enjoy being in the world and aren't afraid of things that clearly aren't threatening.

i hope that this never works against you, emily. i hope that you will grow up to be trusting and brave but not naive. and something already tells me that this will be the case. i think it's that "i don't need you guys to coddle me while we play chase and steal" part of you that makes me not so scared for that "sure i'll hold a stranger's hand" part of you.

and evan. dear, sweet evan. talk about brave. this morning you went for your fourth-ever all-alone big-boy swimming lesson. and your usual teacher was not there. as the new instructor approached us (a full 30 years younger than miss judy, and a man), my heart sank. i wanted your usual teacher. i was afraid that you would be scared with this new person.

but you didn't even blink. you were your same solemn little self, the same boy who loves swimming and swimming lessons so much that he can barely even show emotion while he's there but then erupts into chaos and pride the moment we step into the locker room.

and your teacher told me after class that you kicked ass. you weren't scared. you did the back float, for god's sake, evan. you won't even do that with me.

that's amazing. i would have been so scared to have a new teacher. i would have clung to my mom's leg. i would have teared up. i would have whispered as quietly as possible to my mom that i didn't want to go anymore. but not you, you brave child.

and one last thing, ev. one more thing i need to add even though it's slightly off topic. evan, you are the sweetest boy ever and i hope that you nevereverever lose that. i hope you'll always remember (or always let me remind you) that once, when you were three, you amazed your dad and i with your purehonest goodness.

last night, evan, at bedtime, after you and daddy had gotten PJs on and brushed and washed and read a book, and after you'd hidden like you hide each night, waiting for me to find you so that i can say goodnight, we did our usual thing: hug, kiss, and favorite parts of the day. and you? you told your dad and i that your favorite thing was hearing that emily's blood doesn't have as much lead in it -- that her blood test showed almost 65% less lead in her blood than it did three months ago.

we hadn't talked about this but for one minute during the day when i got off the phone with the doctor's office and said, "hey ev, guess what? emily's lead is a lot better. it's not gone but she has a lot less now."

i will never know what even made you remember that brief moment from earlier in the day, but i will always know why you said it was your favorite thing yesterday: because deep down inside your very cells you are a caring and thoughtful person. that and one other thing: even at three you are already sure that being a family means something special. you tell me often that when you grow up, you want to be a family.

so anyway, kids, i have to get back to work now. but i just wanted you to know that i find you both amazing.

love, mommy

:: birthday girl! ::

today, my baby girl turns one.

you'd never know it from her shoe size (her slippers, which fit her perfectly, are for babies 3-6 months old) or the number of teeth she has (two on the bottom, two on top, and two more poking their way through the gums as we speak). but watch her make her way around the house on two feet (not walking alone quite yet, she still manages to get around) or tease her big brother, or announce "all done" at the dinner table and there's no question: this baby girl is hardly a baby anymore.



tell me she hasn't got the greatest smile you've ever seen, eh? she gets that from her dad and her gramps, that full-face smile.





i really don't know who she got her sense of taste from, for this girlie refused to eat her birthday cupcake (not to worry! big brother evan was more than willing to swoop in and rescue her cupcake, though not without a fight from daddy).

:: at least we don't have carpet ::

as a parent, you want your kids to excel at things, right? i mean, you don't necessarily need one of those babies who learns to read at 18 months or anything, but you just can't help but be proud of your little genius babies when they learn something really super early or whatever.

my kids, though? sometimes their advanced-beyond-their-years learning acquisitions leave me, well, wishing for slightly more average babes. for instance this week, emily learned how to spill snacks out of non-spill snack bowls.

really, emily? seriously?

and not to be outdone, big brother evan figured out how to take apart the vacuum cleaner. but not how to put it back together.

photo credit: me, on the iphone. and no, that's not the spill-proof bowl, that's a regular bowl. after she did this i remembered those toddler non-spill bowls we had somewhere and when i got them out and gave them to her, she figured out just the right way to hold them so that all the cheerios could come cascading out as if lid-less.


alas.

:: he was born 9 days early so this post is kind of like only 1 day late ::

the boy? he's three.

THREE.

and three? it's complicated. it asks interesting questions and its brain can hold multiple ideas in it at once. it is ever more logical, and at the same time ever more emotional. it knows about and experiments with affect (the other day when three was in his room and mommy was in 6-months's room, three did this weird grunty whiny frustrated thing and then informed mommy, instead of asking for you i did another thing to get you to help me - god help us all). it declares its independence in one sentence (hey! now that i'm three, there are three grownups and one baby!, three informs me) and tears up when someone suggests that there will ever come a time when he will not live with mommy and daddy (he may know more than we realize about this). three is social and anti-social; three is purposefully funny and purposefully annoying. it is also inadvertently both of those.

if the gifts three received for its birthday are any indication (tent and sleeping bag, slip & slide, stomp rocket, giant floor puzzle, kid-proof digital camera and more), three is going to be a fun and a full year.

:: how to have a happy memorial day weekend ::

on this lovely memorial day weekend, my kids would like to remind you (and me, who happens to be working in the attic while my family is outside playing in the sunshine, but who also happens to have plans for major relaxation in a certain newly-put-up hammock later this afternoon) of a few things:






(1) nothing, and i mean nothing short of maybe apple pie, smells better than sunscreen.

(2) hydrate (for easy breezy beautiful ice pops, pour regular-ol' juice into dixie cups. freeze for about 40 minutes. insert sticks or plastic spoons or whatever, then freeze another hour or so. warm the pop in your hand for a moment to remove from the dixie cup. eat several -- they're small. we made ours with cranberry juice, orange juice, tropical orange V8 juice, and strawberry-banana V8 juice, and we haven't had a bad one yet.)

(3) lie in the grass

(4) grab your toes - it feels good and it's good for you

(5) surround yourself with colors, smells, and sounds that make you happy

(6) smile

:: okay, maybe manipulation isn't quite the right word... ::

(i'll spare you the pictures that accompany this post...)

i had no idea just how much i would purposefully manipulate my children's emotions. if you'd asked me before i had kids -- even if you'd asked me a year ago -- i'd have said you were crazy.

but here i am with a son who's almost 3 and i'll tell ya: i manipulate the heck out of that kid's emotions.

because he's still learning.

the way i see it, things like excitement, nervousness, anxiety, suspense, and fear, they tend to feel the same, physiologically speaking. they're like fraternal quintuplets, all borne of the same womb. so how do we know which one we're feeling at any given time?

yesterday, the kids and i were in a car accident. a scarybad car accident that we all walked away from relatively unscathed. the car may or may not be totaled, and i did have a little dashboard-to-knee action that has turned me tender and twingy, but both kids are 100% a-ok, which of course is the miracle of the day.

(the accident was not, thankfully, my fault. we were broadsided (and pushed across four lanes of traffic, up a 6" stone curb, and fully onto the tree lawn) by a 79-year-old man who seems not to have had his wits about him. after he struck us he continued driving, turned onto a side road and then up onto the lawn and came head-on at us again. i had to yell stop as he came at us to get him to actually stop. very scary.)

anyway, it was scary. the kids were both crying. i was shaking. witnesses and neighbors were accumulating and sirens could be heard in the distance. then the kids and i sat on the ground while at least ten adults stood around us taking turns asking questions.

and thus commenced at least an hour of me trying my best to mold and manipulate my son's emotions. there was some encouragement: "it's okay to cry, evan. it was scary. that's okay. i feel like crying, too." there was also some diversion: "whoa, look, that's the biggest tear i've ever seen." there was minimization: "yes, we had a car accident, but look, it's all over and everyone is okay and just our car is a little bit broken." there was redirection: "i know you're sad right now, buddy, but can you help me out by making sure your sister doesn't try to eat the grass? can you be a good big brother and help protect her?"

but the most important manipulations have happened in the 36 hours since the accident. when he asks me to retell the story, i retell it. but i leave it flat. there are no details. i add no suspense. there are facts and they are brief and they satisfy his need to know without bringing up any of the physiological feelings from the event itself.

i so want him to know that what happened was scary, but that it's not scary now. it was overwhelming when it happened, but today it is merely inconvenient.

maybe i think about this stuff so much because of the way my own brain struggles to connect the right physiology with the right emotion. i have flight-or-flight responses to things that should be completely innocuous. i feel fear and anxiety keenly without any stimulus but a memory. the way i get through my moments of irrational fear is to manipulate my own responses -- to teach my body how to (and how not to) respond to stimuli.

i don't know how things will turn out with evan and whether he'll suffer the random anxiety that i sometimes suffer since my first bout with postpartum depression. but i can tell you this: he's dealt exceptionally well with the accident. maybe it's my attempts to help him deal with the emotions or maybe it's his own coping ability or maybe it's just plain old dumb luck.

but i have to say, i'm proud of him. i could learn a thing or two from this boy.

:: these days ::

evan's far more into pretending (pretending to be mufasa, pretending to be the conductor from dinosaur train, pretending to be the big cat (a.k.a the hissy monster) in the book francis the scaredy cat) than he is into trains, which explains why he is not wearing pants in these shots. it's because he's pretending to be the aforementioned conductor, who only wears a vest. the trains he's playing with are decidedly not trains from thomas. that's the dinosaur train.

get it right, eh?

:: seven things i never thought i'd say ::

1. yes, but boys pretending to be lions do wear underwear
2. i don't know why sometimes poops disappear
3. there is no why. it was a mistake. that means i can't tell you why because i didn't mean to do it. (this one will come back to bite me in the ass one day, i fear)
4. no, fireman sam doesn't touch his butt a lot
5. yup, that's right, i'm an omnivore
6. am i a mean wildebeest or a nice one?
7. no more fruit until you eat some of your doughnut, buddy

:: cleanifying ::

tara gentile (also of scoutiegirl fame) featured my up up redesign on her personal blog today among several other minimalist blog designs. i was pleased as punch. i was telling her that i wish i could revamp my home as easily as i revamped the blog: change a few hexadecimals here, hit delete a few times over here, slide this gadget over above this other one.

i love a home that looks lived in and i believe in having the things we use everyday close at hand, but man would i love to just click a few keys and be able to downsize and declutter and cleanify everything around me. much as i hate to clean and organize and all, i crave a peaceful and orderly environment. not stark, just a little bit sparser.

the only place in this house i've really been able to achieve that is in emily's room. i've been meaning to post (okay, also meaning to take) these photos for a long time. well, today's finally the day. behold: the nursery.

{ we kept the walls as they were when we moved in: a sort of very pale soy latte sort of color. i also chose to reuse some of the blue things we had from evan's nursery. blue happens to be my favorite color even though i'm a girl and i just like that it keeps emily's mostly-pink room from seeming overly pink. }

{ most everything about the room was inspired by the quilt here behind evan's head which was intended as a wall hanging but which has taken up residence here on the chair instead, which is just fine by me. i just fell in love with the fabric (red letter day by lizzie house) and how it was childish and fun and pink and orange and brown without being all girly. the leftover fabric also features prominently in the embroidery-hoop wall art throughout the room. i also used coordinating solids for the mobile. }

{ can't resist including this great shot of evan. he "helped" me take all these pictures. }

{ i removed the animals and reused the parts from evan's mobile (a jungle-themed mobile from babies r us) to make this one for emily (you can find a link to the fabric pom pom tutorial here). she loves it so much. smiles whenever we place her beneath it on the changing table. because i was able to reuse and repurpose some stuff, the only new things i had to buy for emily's room were sheets for the crib (plus the fabric and the embroidery hoops already mentioned). }

{ more fabric art. such an easy and pretty way to decorate nursery walls. }

{ hand-embroidered by yours truly. a lowercase e for my little emily. (i've taken to referring to evan as uppercase and em as lowercase. i know, i know.) my spiffy new camera shows off the remains of the chalk lines i drew before embroidering. thankfully you really can't see them in real life. }

because we decided not to reuse evan's safari-themed nursery decor and because the room was empty when we started, and perhaps especially because i didn't want to spend more than about $100 on new things for the room, i had a completely blank canvas and the opportunity to put in just enough and no more. her nursery is pretty tiny, and she doesn't have toys strewn about yet, so hers is the room in the house now that is the most peaceful, most orderly, and most pulled together.

i'd love it if i could do the same for my own bedroom. just wipe it clean and start fresh. the first thing i'd banish would be laundry, both clean and dirty.

it's a pipe dream, i know. it would result in laundry strewn about other parts of the house, which would be no better. but still. a girl can dream, right?

***

p.s. who knows why there aren't any books in emily's gramps-made book rack. god knows there are books everywhere else in the house. there's a stack of kids' books nine inches high by my feet as i type!

:: one two three meringue ::

(find the original photo here)

today's the day. the first full day. the just-the-three-of-us day.

brian goes back to work today.

for some reason i just keep thinking about meringue. i keep thinking about meringue and how it's all sweet and light and i just keep telling myself that today, i am going to be oh-so-meringue about everything.



i'm telling myself that so i won't be scared. of being home alone with them. all by myself. just me and them and all their needs.

send me your egg-whites-and-sugar vibes today, eh?

:: the kind of parents we are ::

after a warm, wet november, we woke up december first to the season's first snow accumulation (only about half an inch at best, but enough to make the world white for evan). evan ran from window to window taking it all in and promptly asked if he could go outside.

after breakfast and after george. his specifications.

and so right as curious george ended, daddy got out the snow pants, etc. and took that little boy out into our backyard snow wonderland. and then he even agreed to get the sled out. this is the first year we've had one and we've been hyping it up for evan and he really really needed to try it out.

watching them through the kitchen window and stepping out in my pjs and brian's sneaks to take some photos i was struck by a wonderful thought: i like the kind of parents we are. i like it that on the first day of snow, even though bri had to go to work and i was uberuncomfortable pregnant lady, and even though there really wasn't enough snow even to make a proper snowball, evan still got his first-day-of-snow fantasy fulfilled.

it got me wondering: what are the things you do in your daily life that make you step back and admire your own work, as a parent or whatever?

:: ready ::

i distinctly remember saying once, after evan was born, that i missed being pregnant. i assure you right now: i will not say that this time. i am so freaking ready for this child to come. in my moments of greatest pain and discomfort i have considered reaching up in there and yanking that child out with my bare hands.

i was hoping that working on this sweet little baby's sweet little quilt would be a welcome distraction, but just pin-basting it last night i had to take two breaks. and it's only about a square yard in size.

if anyone out there knows how to remove one's own baby before going into labor, please let me know. i'd really appreciate it.

(p.s. can i just say how much better wood floors are than carpet? sandwiching and basting the quilt at our old place used to be a nightmare but this was super easy (except for the pains shooting down my leg and the fact that my belly was hanging down all pendulous over my pajama pants). hooray for hardwoods.)

:: halloween in pictures & words ::

[ can you guess which pumpkin is mine? ]

i've always thought halloween was fun, but man halloween was fun this year. evan, not quite two and a half years old, was so into it. he looked on the internet with daddy to find a pumpkin carving he wanted to do. he helped me draw the picture on the pumpkin (i.e. he held the pen with me) and then helped the entire time daddy carved it. he pulled out pumpkin guts and then basked in the spooky glow of his lit pumpkin when it was all done.

and the costume thing? so into it. he helped me buy the fabric and pick out the buttons. and when it was all done he kept giving me spontaneous hugs. he went as fireman sam, his absolute favorite TV character (leave it to our kid to fall in love with a welsh children's television show; admittedly he is a dead ringer for the red-headed title character) and here we are two days later and he won't take it off except to eat and sleep. he wore it to the library this morning, the grocery store this afternoon.

and then there's the candy. at each house he gave a confident little "trick or treat please" and then a kind "thank you" (sometimes at our prompting) as he watched more and more candy being dropped into his fire hydrant. (we only went to about ten houses but that's a LOT of candy for a two-year-old!) when we got home he piled his booty on the floor and chose a few pieces to try. he's never been into candy at all but he's definitely enjoying trying all the different bars and bites.

yesterday he cried a little bit telling daddy, "i want halloween to come back." so freaking cute.

** worthy of note: i made this costume using fleece. smartest thing EVER because it took a total of six or seven seams for both the pants AND the jacket. fleece doesn't ravel so you don't need hems. i highly recommend you consider this for costumes in your own future. **

:: knit one, knit another ::

i'm afraid i can't stop. me, the girl whose bio used to read, "julie hates knitting but knits one item each year." i just can't stop knitting.

in fact i've already got my next project on the needles. something for me.

but first: a little showing off. because i'm freaking proud of this little sweater. i wanted to make it but it scared the heck out of me. raglan shaping? neck placket? words i barely comprehended. i tried reading through the directions and they left me bewildered.

but then i just jumped in. i had yarn of the right gauge just sitting around and needed something to keep my hands and brain occupied, so i just started. and row by row i figured it all out. and it was actually pretty easy. and i love it so much.

hooray!

** edited to add: the pattern is from joelle hoverson's lovely book, last-minute knitted gifts. it's one definitely worth investing in. **

:: from wallpaper to chalkboard ::

there's still nothing on the walls in evan's room, making it appear slightly more "prison chic" than i intend it to be, but at the rate we're going it's going to be awhile before i've got pictures of his room to show off, so here's a preview of the coolest part: the chalkboard.

we used chalkboard paint and a chair rail. evan freaking loves it.

and if you're curious, here's a before shot of the same room. AHH!

and an in-progress shot.

it got a lot worse before it got better, eh?