rainy days and mondays always get me thinking

One rainy weekend produced:

Letters to Grandma and Grandpa.

Passalong cards for our adoptive parent profile.

And two embroidered onesies for a friend having a baby girl in a week or so.

If you are willing to pass out a few passalong cards, please email me and I'll send some to you.

god's snacks

I thought it might help our chances of finding a birth mother if we had a profile on the internet. It can't hurt right? Well, actually, if I were to truly divulge all my little weird idiosyncrasies I'm pretty sure my chances would be shot.

But these are things I can keep under wraps. Maybe not from you, my readers. They are slowly seeping out into my blog over time, but to a girl who stumbles onto our profile site, unaware, I should look pretty normal.

Here, check it out. Tell me what you think.

Do you think a person could ascertain from our photos that sometimes we stay in our pajamas all day, watch Spongebob and eat junk food? Can you tell that I'm the type of girl that sometimes vacuums naked before I jump in the shower? Do you see the crazy dancer that Ben really is?

If it isn't too much trouble, let's just keep these things between us.

If you know someone considering adoption for their child, send them directly to the profile page. We don't want to scare anybody off right away. They can get in touch with us here:

Okay, on to lighter subjects. Well, not really.

We were sitting in church today and they were preparing to serve the sacrament. Thom excitedly and not quietly said, "Yeah! Snacks!"

So being the reverent mom that I am, I said, "Shush. Not snacks Thom, the sacrament. You are supposed to think of Jesus when you take the sacrament. Now sit up and quit picking your nose."

And he replied, "I know Mom. It's God's snacks. God's snacks Mom."

That put me to thinking. The sacrament kind of is like God's snacks. It is meant to be a respite from our daily life. It is to nourish us spiritually and buoy us up for the week to come. A little something to hold us over. Just a little snack.

From the mouth of babes.

like the wind

The Crew (Thom, his bud from school and his Greeksican* brothers and sister)

We run for fun. I know. Some people find this absurd. But it's true. Running is really fun once you get into it. Let me repeat that. Once you get into it. It's pure hell when you first start. Don't judge your running capabilities until you have worked up to at least three miles. Then, if you still hate it, well so be it. Take up origami.

My child ran his first race today. It was one mile and he didn't stop until he crossed the finish line. Heaven knows he didn't inherit a single athletic gene from either of his parents, but we both run. I hope he does too.

* The Greeksicans are the children of Andre and Greek and my best friend Jenny. Thomas has grown up with these kids and he considers them his siblings. He actually thought for most of his life that he was also a Greeksican and didn't like being told that he was actually just a boring old caucasian. There's not a drop of Mexican blood in him as you can tell from his pasty white skin.

pandemic

Is it just me or is the entire female population pregnant? Is there some kind of pregnancy pandemic? Is my Pur water pitcher filtering out what everyone else has been drinking?

I saw a woman who was probably about seventy and she looked pregnant. Scouts honor. She was walking around Sur La Table with a rotund belly that I swear could only be pregnancy related. Or maybe she had a tumor in which case I will be struck by lightning later today.

Everywhere I go I can't seem to escape big pregnant bellies. And it may just be my perception, but these women seem to want to draw attention to themselves with their exaggerated waddle and the braggy way they rest their hands across the wide expanse of their midsection.

Don't bother leaving me a comment in defense of the pregnant waddle. I'm being facetious and I'm not in the mood. I try not to moan too much about my barren womb, but to be honest infertility is a treasure trove of complaints. And every once in a while, like when the entire world gets pregnant except for me, my grievances come out.

Just give me this moment of ugliness and ingratitude. After All, tonight I will sit and flip through The Boy's baby photos and I will be shamed.

God has given us this precious gift. For years, I prayed on my knees, "Please Lord, grant us this blessing and we will be happy." I think I should make good on my word.

Thomas 3 weeks

And so, instead of feeling sorry for myself when I am SURROUNDED by preggies at the Target checkout, I am going to think about heartburn, constipation, nausea, weight gain, bloating and vaginal varicose veins. Ew.

And I'm going to be happy for myself.

i have a dream. . .

I have a dream of raising a child who respects Mother Nature and learns the lessons she has to teach. I have a dream of a well behaved dog who infects our family with his carefree canineness.

I have a dream of well balanced life. Of making memories with friends and family. Of passionate kisses with my husband. Of walls covered in my children's art. Of a nation united. Of a flat stomach and tight butt. Of a clean laundry room. Of a sweet child to sleep in our nursery. Of many more days of my feet in the sand and my loved ones laughing in the waves.

Believe in family. Hope for health. Work for peace.

Happy Martin Luther's.

finders keepers

Well, the call finally came. A child with down syndrome had wandered off from home and the Search and Rescue team were called in. There have been other calls. Lovely little calls, involving skull bones, decomposing bodies and suicidal people, but until Ben gets his first responder certification he can't participate in most rescues. Tonight was a different story. With a child missing, they needed him.

The phone rang just as we were sitting down to dinner. My husband has always been a fast eater, but tonight I was dumbfounded as I watched him finish off an entire cowboy dinner (sausage, beans and cornbread) in three gulps. Thom and I were only half way through our meal when we saw a blur of a uniform leave the house.

Thinking that this was an opportune teaching moment, I turned to Thom and said,

"Did you know that Daddy is going out to help find a little kid who wandered away from home?"

"What's the little boy's name?", he asked.

"We don't know. It might even be a girl. Whoever it is, they are lost outside in the cold and dark. Don't you think it is great that Daddy likes to help people?"

"Uh, yeah." He seemed a little underwhelmed. I don't think he grasps how cool his dad really is. I mean, lawyer by day, search and rescue guy by night? That is bascially the formula for a super hero.

We sat eating our dinner and I smiled at him to reiterate the point that helping people makes us happy.

And then he said, "You know Mom, if it is a little girl, maybe Daddy could just bring her home and we could keep her."

Finders keepers.

wild child

"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature."- Anne Frank

As a parent, I want my son to experience all kinds of different things in his life. I want him to eat sushi and chew on tree sap until it turns to gum. I want him to feel snowflakes on his face and salt water up his nose. I want him to know how a GPS and a handheld compass work. In short, I want him to experience his life fully, to be able to look beyond the bleakness of modern life and embrace the inherent beauty that surrounds us.

I bought this book for Sugar Daddy for Christmas.

I found it on my friend's reading list, and being the Survivor Man that he is, I knew my husband would love it.

He does.

The boy went skiing for the first time yesterday.

He fell down A LOT. And I'm glad that he did. It teaches him perseverance.

At times I am sad that I live so far away from my family. It would be so nice to see them more often. But then I am reminded just how lucky I am. My son will grow up knowing about the ocean and the beach, and when we make our pilgrimages to my parents house he learns about snow and mountain life. Hopefully we can give him the experiences he will need to be a well rounded, happy adult.

Survivor Man Dad has specific plans to start the wilderness indoctrination as soon as possible.

a chirstmas wish

Sugar Daddy has been asking me what I would like this Christmas. I haven't been able to give him any concrete ideas. It just happens to be one of those years. I really just want to have a nice day watching my son enjoy the magic of Christmas. Really.

However, there is one little thing that I have been pining for. Unfortunately, it isn't something that my dear husband can pick up on his way home from work.

In a way, I feel like a greedy child at Christmas. I know I am already so blessed to have the Boy. Many people out there will never be able to parent at all. So call me greedy. I'll own it. I want another one. I want another so badly at times my heart and arms feel like Jell-O. I want diapers and formula and onesies. I want fat cheeks and early morning feedings and Gerber carrot puree' stains on my white shirts.

This order may be a little tall, even for Santa. But, I'm putting it out there. I'm sending out this request to the village of friends I have here on the web. If you know of anyone who is looking to place their baby for adoption, would you please consider referring her to our little family?

And in the meantime, I'll continue to thank the good Lord everyday for the son that I have and think of ways to makes the happiest of Christmas memories with him.

monday

As a kid I used to hate when Monday rolled around. These days I really love Monday morning. It is the gateway to the week. It is full of possibilities.

I have a busy few days ahead of me. I've got girls weekend at my house starting Friday night which will take a fair amount of preparation. On Sunday, I am hosting a "Papayaesque" art day which will require at least a few errands to pick up supplies. The boy has a field trip today and is off school tomorrow. I have a birthday luncheon for a good friend and a play date for Thom. The dog needs to go to the groomers. And then there is the house work. The stinking house work. Ever present.

I'm not complaining. I actually thrive on being busy. I seem to function best when there is a lot of work to do. And for the most part it is fun work. Who wouldn't want to go to the art store? The housework on the other hand. . .

the rite of way

(ku)nihito

I was born into a very religious family. Sunday was a day of worship. A day to rest from our labors and reflect on our blessings. Sundays were tradition and family and laughter.

My mother would march us into church Sunday morning scrubbed and plaited and rosy cheeked. We were expected to sit quietly, hands to ourselves, unslouching on the pew. We were expected to take the sacrament without giggling and sing the hymns aloud. She was strict that way.

And yet, without fail, halfway through the hour, she would lean close to me and whisper in my ear, "Roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, green salad, rolls and carrots. And for dessert, your favorite, German chocolate cake. Two layers." Then she would give a quick mischievous grin and poof! she would snap back into a dutiful parishioner.

To say that Sunday dinner is a big deal in my parent's house would be a gross understatement. Resting from our labors doesn't apply to this particular event. Every week two table leafs are brandished and the nice dishes are set. Grandparents arrive in time to kiss every child before the meal is served. Potatoes are mashed and roasted beasts are carved, usually by Grandpa who divys out the samples from the end of the knife.

I don't live near my family now that I'm (supposedly) all grown up. I've tried to recreate the type of Sunday dinner that my mother puts on, but the atmosphere is lacking and my mashed potatoes aren't the same.

I love my little corner of the world here by the sea, but sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could be little again and have my mother whisper in my ear and listen to my family laugh together around the dinner table.

Don't forget that you still have today to enter to win the Turtle Papers calendar. Just leave a comment. The winner will be announced on Monday morning.

anything pumpkin

Warning: If you are on a diet quickly click to here. You shouldn't see what's ahead.

I love Fall. I love how everything is back to business after the Summer season. I love how schools are in full gear, children are out on the field at soccer practice, parents are coaxed into remembering all the state capitols and how to do algebra in an effort to help with homework. And yet there is a certain quietness about it. A stillness, that is the calm before the Winter storm of the Holidays. And there is comfort. Comfort found in a soft blanket on a rainy day. Comfort in being back on schedule and most of all, comfort food.

I love the foods of this season more than any other. Squash and nuts and heirloom tomatoes. Crisp apples and artisan breads. Carmel and taffy and licorice. And pumpkin. Anything pumpkin.

I will be making my yearly batch of pomegranate jelly in a few weeks. It is a process, but well worth the work.

If you would like to try your hand at jelly making- invest in this little kit by Ball. It will make it a ton easier for you as a beginner.

You still have today to enter to win Friday's giveaway. I have three little monsters that will go to three different homes. Just leave a comment.

this witch's brew

Is this torture for a five-year-old boy? Why yes is it, but if ever there was an appropriate time for torture it would definitely be Halloween. And Halloween is in full swing at our abode. I spookified the house last Thursday. (Yes, that is a finger you see amongst the M&M's.) Here's a look.

Ye Ol' Mantle

My work station, or laboratory, if you will.

Our "Rare Halloween Pixie" which we keep on our kitchen table for observation.

I saw this idea on another blog, but I can't remember the address. She used an apothecary jar which looks really great too. Our "fairy" is really Thom at age two.

Thom was a little worried that I had made him look like a girl, no thanks to his father, but in the end he liked being a pixie.

Now go. Go and spread some ghoulish goodness throughout your house. Stuff like this is the spice of life. And if you haven't already, scroll on down and check out yesterday's give away. There are three monsters up for grabs and you have until Monday morning to enter.

the domestication of rosie

Rosie and my brother broke up six months ago. Rosie and I never broke up. We are still good friends. And we try not to talk to much about my brother, but it is hard. Ryan is larger than life.


Rosie is almost done with her college degree in human performance. She is one of the irritating skinny girls who never eat sugar and only drink water. She fully disapproves of my Redbull habit.


So Rosie is busy and unmarried and totally non-domestic. She claims she really is a good cook, she just doesn't- cook that is. Something about a delicious lasagna came up, but I'm yet to see her chef anything more than a turkey sandwich.


She claims she dislikes children, and yet she has been my live in nanny while she has been here. She and Thom caught 55 potato bugs and 11 snails. I think the whole "disliking children" is a rouse.


It was time to share my appreciation for domestic arts with my friend. And so we made an apron. She isn't quite sure when she will be able to wear it. She decided she would put it on when she gets someone in her family a glass of water.


On the agenda for tomorrow- how to barbecue lobster (lobster season started yesterday) and prepare artichokes with garlic butter dip.


I'll make a domestic goddess of her yet.

You have until tomorrow morning to put your name in for the drawings. Come one, come all!

hero work

Don't forget to put your name in the drawing on the two previous posts. The winner will be picked tomorrow morning.

I got a call in the middle of the afternoon last week. It went like this:

"Hello."

"Hi, this is John from San Diego Search and Rescue calling."

Oh good grief, what now?

"Hi, has something happened?"

"Oh no, is Ben around?"

"Uh, no he's at work."

I think he's at work, could be anywhere really.

"Oh well, I'm calling to set up an interview and I was wondering if he could come tonight at 8:30."

"An interview?"

"Yeahhhh. He applied."

"Really."

What in the SAM HELL is he up to? He already has a job. A good one.

"I guess he didn't mention this."

"Well, no, but I'm fairly sure you've got the right number. This sounds like him."

Nature boy.

Chuckle. Chuckle."I have a cell number, should I call that?"

Hummm. Should I play gate keeper and mess with Ben a little?

"Yep, he should answer his cell."

"Okey Dokey."

I guess that is how the mountain people talk- "Okey dokey mam, everything is going to be just fine once we wrench your body from this rock crevice and life flight you outta here."

I actually really love when things like this happen. It gives me what I like to call "emergency conversation starters", ECS for short. I bide my time and when something comes up, say, an errant charge to Anthropolgie on the American Express, I can quickly divert the situation by dropping a ECS and I'm golden.

On Friday John called back to tell Sugar Daddy he was in. They had one slot to fill for the entire county and they choose him. He is now a volunteer Search and Rescue guy. He has to get ready for helicopter training on the weekends. Yeah, Ben thinks he's pretty cool now. And actually, other than the worries I have of him tumbling off a cliff, or out of a helicopter, I thinks he's pretty cool too. And sexy. I will have to share my hero with other people now, but I learned to share in kindergarten so I don't mind.

I'm thinking that design Sunday might go away since I will be featuring a shop every Friday. What do you think?

i think you need some new jewelry

I've been doing a little homework over the past couple of days. My art class is coming up this weekend and we were asked to find images to use in our college pieces. I, of course, am doing a Chinese theme. Surprise, surprise. I will be sure to post the results of my labors next week. However, if my pieces end up looking like a child made them, as I suspect they might, I'll post someone else's work, and just tell you I made it.

So as I have been wandering around the internet looking for inspiration, as I so love to do, I found this bedding.

Folks, let me tell you that the only thing that is holding me back from ordering this right now is the jaw dropping price tag. Just to give you an idea, see the darling little pillow in the first photo? The one with the heart melting little pagoda on it. It's $79.

(Here's the part where I play on your sympathies.) I think a little girl who has spent the first year of her life in a drab, colorless crib deserves this bedding don't you? I think my little china doll needs this bedding. Think of buying Secondsister jewelry as a donation to my nursery fund.

Cherry Blossom Necklace

I'll be listing this little trinket today. It's only $12. I think you need it.

on an up note. . .

I know, I know, a Secondsister Jewelry giveaway has been a long time coming, but here it is! These lovely "Meadow" earrings are up for grabs! Leave a comment, and on Monday I'll use one of the weird little online random number picker thingys to choose a winner. Tell your friends! Shout it out! FREE JEWELRY HERE! GET YOUR FREE JEWELRY!

That's not all I have for you either. After a small stint of moodiness this past week, I thought I'd share a few more reasons to be happy about today.

Now available through Nendo- chocolate pencils. Yes, indeed ladies, chocolate pencils. Now, for all intents and purposes, these pencils were created to use as a baking tool to create shavings for desserts. However, I see no reason to spend time sharpening the pencils just so you can get a miniscule amount of chocolate on top of your molten lava cake. I intend to eat these pencils like a carrot. That's how I roll.

As long as we are talking about chocolate, and all things wonderful, check this. My baby sister and her hubby will be married 5 years this November and I happen to know that they are more in love today than they were on their wedding day. Believe in marriage.

Every parent, ahem, every good parent, thinks that their baby's bottom is the cutest thing around. We can't help it. It comes with the territory. I gave birth to my son and in the midst of all the emotion and commotion, I distinctly remember thinking, "Well look at that. That is about the cutest bum I've ever seen." And then I collapsed from exhaustion.

So in China, they put their children in bottomless pants. They say it is for practical reasons, you know, for potty training and all, but I'm not so sure. Baby bottoms- another reason to smile today.

working girl

Here's a little sneak peak of what's to come.


I can't decide if I feel like a Christmas elf or a sweat shop worker. I have been camped at my work bench, feverishly knotting, twisting, designing and sweating. (Don't forget! September 15th, I will start listing the Fall collection in my shop. Come one, come all!) I can't wait for cooler weather- or a new indoor studio. Hummmm- not likely, better just bide my time and wait for Fall. Which could be a while. We don't see sweater weather until damn near December around here.

I am, however, having my own little Autumn season in my mind, living vicariously through the internet, the wonderful place that it is. I've been looking at all kinds of warm bundly clothes that are one hundred percent impractical for a girl like me to own. The photos for the new collection aren't helping any either. Just look at them! Don't you want to curl up with a warm cider and knit a little?

See this hunka, hunka burning love?

I've been a wee bit testy to him today. Sometimes I'd like to step out of myself and slap the back of my own head.

just monday

Because on Mondays, I really need a good laugh:

You gotta love his enthusiasm. And now to another little matter. . .

Dear Miguel-

After this weekend, I feel that I owe you some sort of apology. It is true that in the past my patience for you has been somewhat lacking. I am prone to making rash judgements and jumping to conclusions. For this I am sorry. It is something I grapple with continually.

I first realized my err when I found out that you weren't able to mow for a week or so because your mower was broken. I hope the repair bill didn't cost too much. I was further shamed when you complimented my work with the succulents I was planting in the pilaster pots. I was a little startled when you appeared behind me and said , "Es muy bueno, Aprrrillll. Muy bueno." I turned to see you standing there in your Home Depot cap and secondhand glasses with a wide white smile on your brown face. I didn't know you wore glasses.

I hope I wasn't over bearing with my questions about how your family is doing. I felt awkward facing you after my unjustified judgements. You further solidified my new opinion of you when you replied that your son is "crecimiento mismo de la grasa y muy lindo". In my book, any man who brags how cute his kids are, must be principled and decent.

In the future, I will cut you more slack when you miss a week. I will inquire more about your personal life. I can see that it makes you happy to talk about your wife and son. In short, I will try to reserve my judgments to corrupt politicians and people at the DMV.

Sincerely,

Mrs. M

P.S. Please don't mention to any one that you saw me drinking a Red Bull and eating a Reese's peanut butter cup while I was planting. Nobody really needs to know.

par-tay

Considering the fact that we were partially comatose and totally out of whack due to traveling on Thom's real birthday, we are celebrating today. We've got a handful of families coming over to watch a movie on our back lawn after the sun goes down. We've got something like 15 pounds of candy for the "concessions stand". We've got popcorn, We've got snow cones. We've got glow sticks and bouncy balls. We're ready.

I made cupcakes instead of a cake this year. It is just easier when you have a lot of people to serve. Besides, I'm partial to cupcakes.

There are several huge advantages to having a boy (faster hair styling, less shoe purchasing and the whole pee factor*) however, cute birthday parties are not one of them. When you have boys, you may be able to get away with cute birthdays for the first two to three years, then things take a sharp turn to the ugly, i.e. Spiderman, Transformers, Pokemon.

I found a loop hole in cupcakes. Boys don't seem to notice if you beautify their birthday cupcakes. Don't try this with an actual birthday cake, from personal experience I can tell you, it doesn't fly.

*There isn't a day that goes by that I don't enjoy the benefits of having a boy when it comes to urinating. This is especially wonderful if you have mysophobia (fear of germs) and public restrooms seem like mine fields. I am all about peeing in the bushes, even outside of Target. Er- I mean Thom. Thom peeing in the bushes, not me. I personally brave the bathrooms with custom crafted paper towel gloves. As a general rule I don't pee outside. I think that would be against the law, right?

artsy fartsy me

I have this thing about buying pre-fab art. I'm not sure where I picked up such a snobby attitude, but I really have very little interest in owning prints. Having said this, I do like limited prints and hand printed pieces, and I do own own set of prints that I bought at Z Gallery that I truly love. But for the most part, I want originals.

The problem is, I also have this thing called a budget. Such an ugly word, budget. Bud-get. Yeez. Anywho, I have semi rectified this situation by painting my own art. Please make no mistake. I am not a gifted artist. But I am crafty in both senses of the word. I have found that it is pretty easy, once you have a concrete idea, to come up with a product you can hang on your wall, at least until you have company over.


Take for example my guest bedroom:


Originally, I wanted a large cast iron sea horse sculpture to go above the bed. First, I couldn't find exactly what I had conjured up in my head, and second, when I did find something I thought would work, it was $2200. Ah- no.

I took the photo of the sea horse sculpture that I liked and painted it onto a canvas. It isn't an exact match, but that's what I like about it. It is my own. I didn't want to spend the money to have a huge canvas custom stretched to the size I wanted so I just bought two smaller canvases (on sale at Dick Blick) and painted an anemone on the other canvas. It has a little hidden clown fish in it that makes me smile. I still wish that the canvases were larger, but all in all, I'm happy with the result.

I really enjoy painting. I find it totally relaxing and almost hypnotic. I signed up to take a weekend long class (Sept. 20-21) from Anahata Katkin, owner and founder of Papaya. Check out her work she is amazing. I am hoping to come away with some fabulous pieces that I can be proud to hang on my wall.

I'll tell you another word, uglier than budget. Frugal.