I'm ready for my closeup Mr. Demille

And why not?

2012-01-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

I got a bee in my bonnet last month and began craving a new set of glasses. I do wear them nearly every waking moment, constant companion-like, and so a person like me does occasionally crave a speck of variety.

I decided to be brave and utilize the "try on at home" option from Warby Parker. The try on pairs didn't have any anti-glare coat, but it was a fun way to get an idea of what I was looking for. Only trying them on didn't actually help me decide anything. If you were me, what would you choose?

Everything's Coming up Carnations

2012-01-25T14:30:00.003-07:00

I was asked by my friend Terra at Magnifique Photography to come up with bouquets for a "Fire and Ice" bridal shoot. Total creative free reign. I'm excited to get some sparkly, perfect pictures from the shoot amidst ice sculptures. I had as much fun as I could afford with that one, and planning and executing it has eaten up most of my spare moments in the last week or two. But isn't it nice (as a mom) to create something so concrete and tangible? Every so often, having something to show for all your work is really a nice change.

Speaking of which - nobody come over until I get my house put back together.

Will you be my?

2012-01-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

I got all kamikaze recently and decided to let my kids make their own valentines this year. Oh my holy mess-ness. But you know what, Sir O is getting to the age where he gets into "the zone" when he starts creating something. He makes a maniac's mess, but he himself is perfectly contained. It's like he channels all his wildest energy into making something and the craziness erupts around him while he, for a moment, is perfectly calm and content. It makes me smile. Until it's time to clean up.

how to deal with make-believe

2012-01-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

The other day Sir O burst into the laundry room where I was buried and told me I needed to "come, come, come, come, quick mom!" I came upstairs and discovered that all the boys in the house had decided that it was the birthday of some puppy-puppets and were throwing them a birthday party. (In our gentleman's bedroom - by rule a "toy-free" zone.) I fought the urge to get upset about all the things that weren't where they belonged and grabbed the camera instead. I am glad these boys are learning how to make-believe. If I can keep from squelching it, it may prove to be a source of great joy when they need it most.

Learning how to clean up after themselves probably wouldn't hurt either.

a gurgling fountain of cheer

2012-01-19T15:47:00.001-07:00

Our gentleman is such a happy smiley fellow that I was rather surprised to poke my finger in his mouth this morning and discover two new teeth. His older brothers were always distinctly unpleasant while they were teething, but the only clue we get with this one is that his nose runs like mad. Such a snot-faced sweet boy. He thinks everything is so incredibly funny. It's like joy, personified.

On the Job training

2012-01-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

I've been attempting to re-evaluate my expectations and definitions of my mother-of-three life of late. This is part of fine-tuning my New Years resolutions, which are bound to be ready to share soon.

The biggest issue I'm coming up against is that all too often, I have a hard time getting over myself and really focusing the appropriate amount of energy on my kids. I still spend too-much time and energy thinking about me. About what I want for me. And on really cranky days, thinking about what I want for me but cannot have. It's not hard to see that this self-absorption is a fast-pass to a permanent state of cranky, listless discontent. A place I know too well.

So, the task at hand is to get over myself. And this is done.... how? I'm figuring it out. Here's what's helping:

1. Spend a few moments every day just soaking each child in and adoring them. Just like a marriage, a mother-child relationship benefits from the power of intentional positive amorous brain time. If I can remember how lucky I am and how tremendous these little people are, well then I'm half way there. Even on their crankiest of days, I can still manage to step back and wonder at the scope of their souls. These moments also help me to view their experiences and frustrations through their point of view. And to remember that they aren't so quick to make expensive messes just because they want to make me feel all my efforts are futile. (That is my emotional response to their messes, and it's just out of line.) It helps me remember that it's my job to be the mature one and that they still have a ways to go before they will be able to think outside of themselves the way I need to. And it's my job to teach them how to do that - mostly through my example.

2. Take an occasional constructive mommy time-out. A selfish "time-out" will only increase the self-pity. I've been guilty of pulling time from my family in order to indulge in fantasies about how I wish my life were different. Or worse, how I wish my life were more like someone else's. Hello ornery and unmotivated version of myself! If I really want to change something about my life I need to set a goal and create a realistic plan for change. I also really need to remember how great my life is and can be. So when I'm in danger of losing my cool and need to take a time out - the purpose of my time out needs to be recalibration, not gratification. Instead of spending those moments focusing on what I don't have and can't do, I need to turn it around and remember what I do have, and commit to what I can and will do.

3. Respect your children. Sure they are "just kids". But truly, do you feel that different inside from when you were a kid? You have more stress and more responsibilities. You've learned a lot. But are you not still the same person? If you can back your lens way up, you realize that there's not such a difference between your kids learning how to be pleasant people and you learning how to be a parent. You're both learning as you go. Respect that your child's journey and experience is a real and immediate to them as yours is to you. Their frustrations (which may seem trivial to you) are perfectly valid in their eyes. Be as patient with them as you hope God can be with you. I suspect He sees us all as little children with a terribly limited understanding, and is oh so patient with us.

4. Approach your least favorite tasks as a direct service for the people you love. I cannot tell a lie, the super-repetitive parts of running a household can sometimes drive me batty. The dishes? The laundry? The kitchen floor? I sometimes get defeated by their never-ending-nature and my motivation to deal with them shrivels and flops. They don't stay done and the sense of accomplishment I feel at completion is hardly proportionate to the fatigue I feel when the next dish or dirty sock surfaces 3 seconds later. So how can I keep this fact-of-life from running me over? It's an instance of not changing what you are doing, but changing why you are doing it. When my housework turns into a gift I am giving to my kids and my husband, it becomes much easier to do it happily and well. And so the drawers of clean and folded clothes, the reasonably straight kitchen, and the less-than-disgusting kitchen floor are all gifts to them.

5. Adjust your expectation paradigm for how you are thanked for your work. Relating to #4, it is not reasonable to expect your children to line up and give you angelic smiles and thank you for each task you complete on their behalf. (If they do thank you for anything you do - that is purely frosting on top). If you want more verbal thanks, try giving more of it to your spouse. The way your kids show their appreciation for your gifts is by using them. Thinking this way helps to circumvent mountains of frustration. I remember being told that being a mother is like being a Chef. You send out a beautiful, delicious dish. If the plate got sent back still looking beautiful and full of food you'd be sad! Yet that's often what we expect our kids to do when we work to make our homes neat and attractive. The way they are attracted to the toys or the rooms we just cleaned up is their way of appreciating our work. We need to learn to view it as thanks.

6. Give yourself permission to take a little pride in doing things your certain way. If I'm going to be a mother, homemaker, housekeeper, babysitter, etc. I'm going to be a good one. You cannot possibly do everything well as a mother, there are not enough breaks or enough prep-period for that. But you can take a little pride in the things you can do well, especially the things you get at least nominal pleasure from doing. I take pride in ironing everyone's dress-shirts, in setting the table for dinner each night, and in thoroughly lubing my boys in some super-beneficial lotion after a bath. I know nobody else would do these things for my family as well as I do - and that most people wouldn't do them at all. It's like my signature, and I'm very attached to it.

7. Search for opportunities to share things you love with your kids. This can be one of the most fun aspects of parenting, but also a really hard one to prioritize. Yet nothing makes you feel as accomplished or cool as a parent as having a child that has been taught to appreciate something they can enjoy the rest of their life. A certain music genre, a favorite movie, a beloved hobby? Get your kids involved and enjoy it together. In the process you will also enjoy each other more.

8. Take care of yourself in order to have the strength and energy to enjoy life and your family for years to come. How many mothers forget to feed themselves in the course of they day? What is the consequence of that? I don't know about you, but at our house hungry people are usually pretty crabby. It's not selfish to let your children cry or wait longer for what they want so that you can eat a balanced meal or go to the bathroom. And making time in the day to exercise and feed yourself spiritually ultimately blesses your family with a mother who is balance and strong and has the energy and well-being to be present. I have done much better at parts of this, and my biggest goals are to improve at the remaining parts. I really believe in this, even if I also recognize how hard it is to make it happen.

9. Define what you are and are not responsible for. Your kids' approval is never a reliable gauge of how you are doing. Your goal as a parent cannot safely be to make them happy either. Guess who decides whether they are happy? They do. It's important as a parent to clearly define what you can and can't control, and what is and is not your responsibility. Make sure you are not owning their choices. You don't own them, you are a steward over them. Your job is not to control them or their choices, but to teach them and equip them to be able to make good choices. It helps when your child is throwing a public tantrum to remember that you aren't the one exhibiting embarrassing behavior; they are. Be embarrassed for them, not for you. When you aren't trying to control things beyond your control, or feeling responsible for things you can't control, it's a lot easier to feel good about the work you do, and to focus your energy where it can do the most good.

10. Learn to recognize and act when you're being derailed. But be patient with yourself. You're learning too. I am as prone as anyone to feeling like a failure at the end of the day. I expect myself to do everything I know I should do, and I always fall short. On the days I can give myself credit for improving without beating myself up for being imperfect and human, I find I can spend a lot less energy beating myself up and spend it instead on things that actually make a difference. There's a lot of wasted energy in being a perfectionist. When I sense I am getting frustrated and getting all wound up inside, I try to remind myself that I should do something productive with that energy instead. I try to quickly think about a few things I do have and a few things I can do, to get myself in a better frame of mind. And then I try to remember what a waste of energy frustration can be. You can only be frustrated if you have unmet expectations, and the less fair and realistic your expectations are, the more energy you will waste being frustrated. If your expectations aren't met, try to give them up, even if they were reasonable. Holding on to them won't make them happen, especially if they involve other people's agency.

So dear readers, what would you add to my list? What keeps you levelheaded and purposeful when you start to slip into a rut? Do share, because I still have a long way to go!

waffling

2012-01-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

We eat a lot of waffles around here. Our Captain actually refuses to eat anything for breakfast besides waffles and cinnamon rolls. And since I can't seem to make more than a dozen cinnamon rolls at a time, (um, plus they are a significantly less healthy option) waffles it is. I make a massive batch of these once every two weeks or so. I like making them myself because I can sneak in more whole grains, they are cheaper, and they taste better than store-bought frozen waffles. It is kind of an ordeal on the mornings I make them, but it saves me ever-so-much time on the mornings that I just pull them out of the freezer. For me this is a recipe/life hack. I thought I'd share.

Whole Wheat Freezer Waffles
3 cups all-purpose unbleached flour.
3 cups whole-wheat flour
1/3 Cup + 1 TBSP cornmeal
3 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
6 large eggs; separated
3/4 Cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
5 1/4 Cups Water
3/4 Cup + 4 tsp Buttermilk powder
1/3 Cup Maple Syrup
1/2 tsp Maple Extract
1 TBSP Banana Extract
1 TBSP ground Cinnamon
1 tsp cream of tartar
Vegetable Oil spray for waffle iron

1. Heat Waffle Iron
2. Whisk flours, cornmeal, salt, baking soda, buttermilk powder, and cinnamon together in a large bowl.
3. In separate bowl, whisk egg yolks and melted butter together, then whisk in water, maple syrup and extracts until uniform in color.
4. In a large bowl, whip the egg whites and cream of tartar with a handheld electric mixer on low speed until foamy, then on medium high speed until whites hold stiff peaks, at least 3 minutes.
5. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients, and pour 1/4 the butter mixture into the well and mix with a wooden spoon until all liquid is incorporated. Then move wet portion to the side and create another "well" and repeat with 1/4 of butter mixture at a time until the mixture is incorporated but still lumpy and no dry pockets remain.
6. Fold whipped egg whites into the batter with a spatula.
7. Spray the hot waffle iron with the vegetable oil spray, then spread the appropriate amount of batter (for me it's around 1/3 cup per 4" waffle) in the iron. If freezing, cook until firm but not yet golden brown. (I set a timer for 2 minutes). If serving immediately, cook according to your waffle iron's specifications. Repeat with remaining batter, spraying waffle iron as needed between batches.
8. Allow waffles to cool completely on a cooling rack.
9. Package and label your waffles in gallon freezer bags. You can fit them tightly, but try not to compress them as you do it, makes them hard to separate when frozen.
10. Store in your freezer for up to 6 weeks. To serve, open freezer bag and remove a waffle (may require minimal prying) reheat in a toaster on a medium-high setting (on my toaster I use setting 4 out of 6).
11. At our house we then butter the waffle, cut it into kid-sized bites, then coat with maple syrup and whipped cream.

*This recipe is almost entirely adapted from the Whole-Wheat Buttermilk Waffles recipe in the "America's Test Kitchen Healthy Family Cookbook." I found their recipe to be a bit bland, so I added the extracts and cinnamon. I also found it to be more economical to use the buttermilk powder instead of buttermilk, because I make this large batch of these so often!

whenever I think about pioneers...

2012-01-15T21:14:00.001-07:00

Last night found us home for the first Sunday in weeks and weeks. With no family obligations and early church, we found the evening stretching out into a long stretch of time, and were trying hard to keep from filling it with dvds and toys.

So as the sun set on another yummy dinner by Mr Renn, I suggested that we make a pretend camp-fire and teach our kids a thing or two about their pioneer heritage. The campfire (build out of aluminum foil, LED fake candles, and a box) was a huge hit. (The story-sharing, less of a hit.) But at least we were all engaged, for a while, in doing something together. I maxxed out my ISO to capture a few moments. I wish I'd captures Sir O running around like crazy, arranging the candles into "patterns" all over the house. These boys are lovely, if exhausting.

The Good Year

2012-01-11T21:45:00.000-07:00

photo by Ginnie J. No, you can't have her, she's all ours.

(Somewhere in my mind I thought I pressed "publish" on this post a few weeks ago, but just found it sitting as a "draft" today. Early onset dementia, here we come.)

I really can't complain about 2011. It came, it went, life happened. Mostly good things. As usual, my only substantial trials are merely the side-effects of my blessings.

I chopped all my hair off. I finally got a real camera. I came to grips with the severity of the Captain's speech issues. I got a better handle on the scope of Sir O's anxiety and sensory issues. We all loved on our gentleman because he's just so dang smiley. And he's finally become a great sleeper. (When he's in his own bed.) I started a business, and proceeded to burn myself out with 2 weddings and moving in a 3 week period. The business still exists, but I haven't been actively soliciting work.

It was the year with the fewest blog comments to date. I've been tempted to get rid of comments altogether so I'll stop wondering what I'm doing wrong. I'm a ninny that way.

Mr Renn gave up the identity of a student and began the adjustment to having people think he's an expert. (He is an expert, but sometimes it seems strange to him still). We moved our little family out of my parent's spare bedrooms and into a far away (rented) home of our own. And we sent Mr Renn off to night school to become a master gardener.

Now we're sort of settled into a new routine. We're getting excited about things that may be around the corner. (A home and garden of our own would be a most excellent addition to our lives, don't you think?) And we're getting more serious about setting goals and expanding our comfort zones in the new year.

I still get stir-crazy about every other month and wish I was doing more with my life. And poor Mr Renn has to listen to me go on about it every time. That may never change.

But I think all of our most important bases are covered as we reflect on the past year. Our health, our relationships, our faith and our careers (ok, maybe just Renn's) have all had a thriving year.

ketchup

2012-01-11T14:45:00.000-07:00

Life has been a quickstep lately.

January has cornered me with an unusually unforgiving frequency of migraine headaches, and it tends to make life slip between your fingers when that happens.

But I've caught a few grains of it lately, and I ought to dole them out.

We got our perhaps one and only snowstorm of winter, and tried to make the most of it. Thanks to our lucky stars it happened on a Saturday that Mr Renn was home. That made the snow about a zillion times more fun for us all.

Our gentleman has decided to take to walking like a duck to water. Only he doesn't exactly walk, it's more of a march. And it's hilarious. He's also decided to go through another anti-sleep phase. Just what I needed.

In fact, my children have in general expressed the opinion that I'm not aging quickly enough, and they ought to speed the process up. I don't exactly agree, but the other night while I attempted to fix dinner (through another migraine), they opted to turn my bathroom into a water park. They filled the tub with water and with every towel in the house, squirted sunscreen all over the floor and were found slip n' sliding around in their wet bathing suits while the showerhead ran full-blast, soaking the towels and completely emptying the water heater. At least I had the presence of mind to document this lunacy, right?

We attended my niece's baby blessing (which was lovely) and the Captain got to re-celebrate his birthday a bit. He's such a gracious birthday boy. I love him to bits.

And that's about as caught up as I can render this blog-o'-mine. Let's see if I can catch a break in what's left of January, because February doesn't have a great track-record with me. And someone send my kids a memo about their mother's need to sleep and perhaps not spend all of her discretionary time cleaning up ridiculous messes. Think it would help?

How to Cook Anything

2012-01-09T08:00:00.000-07:00

I expected to get a lot of flak for buying my boys a play kitchen for Christmas.

But you'd have to be their parent to know what a perfect gift it was for them.

These are the boys who revel in watching cooking shows with their dad, and whose reality is having a Dad who cooks as often and better than their mother. So in their reality, there are no gender issues in the kitchen. It's a fun and inclusive spot.

I managed to get these from a sweet old lady who was closing down the preschool she'd run out of her home. They've already lasted forever and will last through another forever. (Although if anybody can kill them, it'll be my kids.) They also came with a little wardrobe closet that I've used for dress-ups.

But in the meantime, there'll continue to be large batches of imaginary cookies cranked out of our pretend cucina. So much less messy than the real kind.

One King Day

2012-01-07T08:00:00.001-07:00

Our Captain gets the perpetual bummer of having a birthday right as the post-holiday burn-out settles in. I'm hoping that I can minimize the bummerliness as he gets older and more aware of being short-changed. But so far this time around, I am not quite prepared to give myself a gold star.

But, there WERE balloons, so the most important base is covered.

I selfishly decided that having a yummy cake was going to trump having an exciting cake, so I had the Captain help me make a marbled chiffon cake. It probably would have turned out a little better if he hadn't helped me, but I'm still calling it a success. I drizzled chocolate ganache over the top and called it good. Then Sir O put the idea into his head to want a "Lightning McQueen Cake". Drat that. So this was my compromise. Not exactly what they had in mind, but still a very yummy cake.

Despite lots and lots of hinting from me that we ought to look for alternatives, we found ourselves at the Mouse House last night. At the very least, my worst concerns were never realized and there were no meltdowns or fits. At least not THERE. There may have been a few before we left the house.

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And then we came home, and gave our Captain his perhaps less-than-thrilling gifts. He finally got a big-boy-bed since he's been throwing fits about not wanting to sleep in his toddler bed for the last 6 months. Happy birthday kid, here's a mattress. At least the Maisy game was exciting. That was a serendipidous HomeGoods find. One of those moments when you KNOW you're supposed to go in that store at that time, but you don't quite know why.

And now he's dreaming peacefully in his new rocket ship sheets, on his new pillow in his new bed. And I officially have a new three-year-old on my hands.

It's easy to forget how quickly this little man is growing up. His speech isn't keeping up with his mind or his body, and somehow that renders me forgetful. But as his speech is slowly improving, wonderfully complex thoughts are finding their way through from him to me. He shocks me at least every day with a reminder of how much he understands and is processing and is trying to share.

I have my fingers crossed that this next year of Captain-ness brings enough improvement in articulation that I can leave him with people who don't speak Captain-ese for perhaps long-enough to have him in a regular preschool class come Fall. And for him to feel understood. I'm sadly certain that he's never yet felt genuinely understood, even by me. But I think he's felt loved, and that comes first anyway.

The great Air Show and how it happened

2012-01-06T12:05:00.002-07:00

Sir O is a sucker for all things crafty. Scissors and glue are his best friends. If only I could supply a never-ending stream of prepared crafts then I might just be able to keep him out of trouble. Unfortunately I have two other children and a house to take care of, and there is a conspicuous lack of a prep-period in parenting (at least in my reality.) And so there is always trouble.

But when we do manage to satisfy his creative urge the results can be quite glorious. And so yesterday, in between bouts of manic whining and flopping, I helped Sir O make some birds from a template in a library book. He proceeded to decide they were kites rather than parts of a mobile, and kites require wind, and so in a flash every fan in the house was parked at the bottom of the stairs.

An audience was "rounded up" and thus began a fancy schmancy "air show" that consisted of watching Sir O attempt to fly his "kites" in the "wind." As a show it was, um, floppy. But as a self-initiated bout of imaginative play I'm calling it a great success. We just won't venture into the battle of wills that was trying to get him to return all the fans to their respective homes, or the battle that was his brothers wanting to play with the audience rather than watch the show.

Battles aside, it was actually one of the better moments we've had at our house lately. Something about the post-holidays blues has turned my kids into little hellions lately. Something as small as having trouble turning a page, tripping up stairs, or having finished the last of their snack sends them into loopy hysterics. They fight over everything and have forgotten how to communicate in non-whiney tones of voice. I keep digging deeper in my patience bucket, thinking that sometime they'll have to equalize and return to a more normal state, but my bucket is looking pretty empty these days.

They are clearly over-tired, but putting them to bed earlier has only resulted in them waking up earlier and actually being more tired than before. We've purged the house of Christmas candy, and I'm trying to circumvent boredom and minimize screen time. Still they are exceptionally difficult. This is when I read and reread this post over and over again.

AND when I repeat the mantra, "I love my kids, I love my kids, I love my kids" and "These are small problems, these are good problems to have." Over and over and over.

What gets you through the rough spells? I can't be the first mother to endure this craziness.

On life with a nebulizer

2012-01-05T08:00:00.001-07:00

Our Captain started wheezing when he was about a year old, and as he's still wheezing whenever he gets a cold 2 years later, it would appear that he has the same cold-induced-asthma that my youngest brother was cursed with. This poor kid is rarely healthy between October and March. And we spend lots of time with our friend the nebulizer. The first year of using it was torturous, but somewhere along the way the Captain decided that he rather liked it, and he now settles down and cooperates beautifully. It's like he welcomes his little nebulizer coma. If it's anything like those times I was in labor and was put on Oxygen then I don't blame him, that was so relaxing.
So while having the asthma is a total downer, I suppose I ought to thank all the Pennsylvania taxpayers out there who supplied us with our nebulizer. The Captain thanks you too. We'll appreciate it for a long while yet at the rate he wheezes.

Ending the year with my very favorite boys

2012-01-02T17:16:00.000-07:00

Because we'd just returned from our anniversary adventures that morning, we opted for a cozy-at-home New Years Eve celebration. But we did celebrate! Mr Renn whipped up a dinner composed entirely of party finger-food.

Then I raided my craft room for little paper punches and we made our own confetti and decorated party hats. Near the end of that activity we had to put our gentleman to bed. He'd only slept 4 hours the night before, we were told, and he was spent.

Then we played games until it was midnight in Buenos Aires. We figured we'd celebrate an early New Year's with the kids and get them to bed at a reasonable time. We had our first day of early church the next morning and Sir O was supposed to give a talk (on top of having new teachers). There was no way that was going to fly if he was tired and ornery.

So at the stroke of 8pm, we partied like the crazy kids we are. Which is to say we blew (or slobbered on) party blowers, threw confetti, and opened our mini martinellis. If it was a sad showing for the holiday my kids will never know it.7

Here's to Us

2011-12-31T21:40:00.000-07:00

Mr Renn has been a busy beaver planning ways to delight his wife. What was under the pretense of being a temple date grew into dinner and a night of respite at the classy Grand America Hotel. An early Anniversary celebration. (8 years on Tuesday - how did that happen?).

Mr Renn uncharacteristically jumped on the upgrade offer (thanks AAA) when we checked in and we found ourselves in an oversized apartment of a suite. It was easy to feel right at home.

Our dinner was impressive and ever-so fancy. (Real Silverware) The man at the table next to us didn't seem to think so (we've never hear anyone complain so much, and we were there to escape the whining of certain 5 and nearly-3-year-olds)

So rather than annoy the waiting staff with unreasonably complaints, we annoyed them by whipping the camera out every time they left us alone.

We felt like little kids left alone in our big fancy room, and we couldn't quite resist acting that way.

Best break from my every-day-reality. EVER. Best surprise. EVER. Most fun we've had together in a long time. I know that this kind of a respite is not often a possibility, but it is so nice to be treated like you are worth it when it can happen. Worth it's weight in dollars.

How to survive Christmas

2011-12-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

Our poor Captain had a rough Christmas morning. We're in an in-between stage for Christmas. Sir O is old enough to be excited and wake up before the crack of dawn and remain delightful. The Captain, poor guy, is not quite there. We made Sir O hang out in our bedroom with us for an hour before we finally conceded to waking the Captain. And he would not be awakened. And then he cried and sobbed and flopped. It took him a good long while to wake up enough to notice the magic. Luckily it takes more than that to disappoint us and we found it borderline hilarious.

Christmas shaped up nicely from there on out though. Lots of genuinely surprised people.

(yes, my intensely surprised and happy face does look a little like an angry crazy person face. I am aware)

We only got a little ways into gifts in the morning before we had to pause and force our super-cooperative kids to get ready and go to church. That was actually not as bad as I'd feared, and our Captain was much happier when we dove in again.

Then we made our Gentleman and Captain take some substantial naps before we headed into the family party portion of our day. In the meantime certain other boys managed to remain occupied.

After that deep breath, we attended the family party at my grandma's house, got to skype with my brother on his mission in Australia, and did a gift exchange with my siblings at my parent's house.

It was such a long, overfull, joyous day that we have needed 3 full days to recover from it. We are finally feeling human again. And rather sick, all told. But I'm pleased with the experience my kids had. And THIS was the year that Oliver could tell you what Christmas is really all about. Thank you Charlie Brown.

Eve-ing

2011-12-27T17:58:00.001-07:00

We found ourselves without plans for Christmas Eve, and it turned into the loveliest of hang-out days.

Sir O and I (mostly I) spent 3 hours putting together a Cape May puzzle. The Captain took it upon himself to demolish it as soon as I'd taken a photo.
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(then we cleaned and cleaned and cleaned some more, AND)

We put the finishing touches on some Captain dolls.

And Mr Renn created a fancy candlelight feast for just us.

Followed by reading the Nativity in Luke and opening Christmas Jammies.

Christmas Morning was not nearly so smooth, you will see.

Most Merry

2011-12-24T16:08:00.000-07:00

Happy Happy Christmas to you. We are doing our best to not be sick this Christmas and scouring our house in preparation for the big day. And wishing we were organized enough to have some meaningful service to give. We're still keeping our eyes out and have leads on a few opportunities. But here's a roundabout service to you. Here's the Christmas song that resonated with me so much this year that I couldn't decide whether I really loved or really disliked it. But I couldn't stop listening, and have landed on the side of thinking it may just be the most nearly perfect Christmas song, because it dares to provoke improvement. It makes me think, and be grateful, and commit to be a better disciple of Christ. If it does the same for you, then what more could you ask of Christmas?

{last} Christmas Carol Spotlight: Go tell it on the Mountain

2011-12-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

There were lots of contenders to be fit into my last day of this, and my considerations were all over the place - Joseph by the Killers, Le Noel de la Rue by Edith Piaf....
But I kept coming back to Go tell it on the Mountain.
Mostly, I think, because my entire 4th grade class learned to play it on the ukelele. And if that isn't an awesome memory, I don't know what is.

And the version by the David Crowder Band makes me think about it in deep and mellow ways that are a perfect match for the breath I am taking before we dive into pure holiday bliss/stress/abandon. Listen, breathe, dive.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Silent Night and Shaun Barrowes

2011-12-22T11:51:00.000-07:00

IF you are going to record a Christmas Album, and include the songs that everybody else includes on their Christmas albums, please do us all the favor of making your recording sound at least a little bit unique. It will help me to forgive you for your lazy song choices. And maybe actually like your album. Just saying.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: A Cradle in Bethlehem

2011-12-21T11:49:00.000-07:00

Because you can't have too much Nat King Cole in December. I've tried, but it can't be done. His was the first version of this song I ever learned to love. So far as I can tell, it was written for Cole's 1960 album, but it's full of the influence of the folk music of the American South. It's another great lullaby carol.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Wexford Carol

2011-12-20T11:44:00.000-07:00

I'm always happy to include a bit of Irish-ness in my Holidays. This spectacular Carol hails from Enniscorthy, and makes me smile every time. It's another treasure from the Oxford Book of Carols, without which my Christmases might become quite dim. I'm pretty sure if the radio airways were full of the contents of the Oxford Carols, there would be far fewer people complaining about Christmas music. But since there are not, I boycott Christmas Radio entirely, and make my own playlists with spectacular carols like this one. Doesn't it just send festive shivers down your spine?

Christmas Stories: Nine Days to Christmas

2011-12-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

When Sir O's preschool teacher asked me to take a turn reading a Christmas story to his class, my immediate reaction was to choose Nine Days to Christmas. It's the perfect blend of culture and festivity and narrative, and we love it around here. It's a cute introduction to the Mexican custom of Christmas Posadas, and centers around a very special star-pinata.

Because I was supposed to bring a stocking stuffer associated with my book, sir O and I set about making mini star-ornament-faux-pintatas. Other than the 2 times I burned my fingers with the hot glue gun, it was a really easy and fun project.

I bought a tube of mini plastic gold ball ornaments, and a pack of gold birthday crowns at the party store.

I used the points on the crowns to make conical points for the stars. (Use hot glue, not craft glue, fyi).

Then I cut and folded slits to make a flat-ish surface to glue against the ornaments.

5 cones for each star. They were not perfect, but for a project with a preschooler for a sidekick, I thought they were absolutely adequate. And the kids in his class loved them, which is the most important part, right?

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Bring a torch, Jeanette Isabella

2011-12-19T11:43:00.000-07:00

I have loved this song since I was a little girl, and always perked up when I heard it. Unfortunately, that has never been as often as I wished. (And even less often is it a version with vocals.) It's a French song (Provencal) and not originally intended to be a Christmas carol. But the English translation, with it's perpetual references to Christ is born, and to not wake a baby sleeping in a stable, it's hard to not make that correlation. Isn't it pretty?

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Zither Carol

2011-12-18T11:43:00.000-07:00

This lovely Carol is arguably of either Czech or Polish Origin. Depends on who you ask. It was traditionally accompanied by an actual Zither, (BIG SURPRISE) hence the name. Though it is sometimes also called the Children's Carol.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: As Lately we watched

2011-12-17T11:42:00.000-07:00

As Lately We Watched is a 19th Century translation of an Austrian Carol, Hirten auf dem Felde.

It has sort of been relegated to being an obscure "choir carol", and that makes me sad. It's a lovely carol, and could be arranged any which way and be a great Christmas staple.

Christmas Stories: The Remarkable Christmas of the Cobbler's Sons

2011-12-17T01:02:00.000-07:00

I think what I love most about this beautiful book is that it captures the magic of the Alps, the visitation of which is near the top of my bucket list.

The Remarkable Christmas of the Cobbler's Sons is also illustrated by Barbara Cooney, and I've loved most all of her work in children's books.
It's a lovely bit of fancy and fairy tale and folk-lore that never forgets the importance of it's archetypes. And it doesn't fail to mention the Baby Jesus either. I'm pretty sure that's near the top of my Christmas story criteria.

If you have even a tiny soft spot for Tyrolean culture, (Heidi fans, anyone?) you will very likely fall madly in love with this book.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: March of the Three Kings

2011-12-16T11:41:00.000-07:00

This Christmas carol is an excerpt (part XIV) from a Christmas Cantata (Hodie) by Ralph Vaughan Williams (another Christmas music hero of mine.)

It serves to tell of the travels of the three kings, and introduces each of them and their gifts.

This portion of the cantata was written expressly for Williams' wife, Ursula. I think things like that are terribly sweet and enduring, even if the music involved in this case isn't particularly romantic.

Snow and mysteries

2011-12-16T11:21:00.000-07:00

Unlike the rest of the Wasatch front, we've not seen much in the way of "weather" this December. When we do get snow it's just a few flurries before breakfast.

But somehow even those few flurries are pretty magical to these boys. They are itching to play in some real snow.

I hope we can get some for them. It's funny how powerless you can feel as a parent sometimes. This is one of them. I cannot snow for them. No matter how I'd like to. I could perhaps drive them to where there is snow, but we'll save that as a last resort. The very thought makes me tired.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Gloucestershire Wassail

2011-12-15T11:40:00.000-07:00

I hope you are at least vaguely aware of the awesomeness of Wassails. The term refers to both the spiced cider drink, and the ceremony for which it was originated. The ceremony involves essentially singing to the trees (and often other crops and livestock) and drinking to their health for a good harvest in the year to come.

I'm not certain how the Gloucestershire Wassail came to be considered a Christmas Carol, but as the verbiage of Wassails were usually adjusted for the needs of those singing it and their crops, it is interesting to note that the most prominent recorded version was collected by Ralph Vaughan Williams for the Oxford Book of Carols from an old man from the county of Gloucestershire who sang it to him. So we largely have that old man's version, singing for his particular Fillpail (cow) and Cherry (horse).

It's a pretty solid piece of British folk history. Full of salt-of-the-earth-isms. And oh so festive and cheerful sounding, no?

Spanish Fork Festival of Lights

2011-12-15T11:20:00.000-07:00

Last weekend as we wrapped up the cookie-making madness we decided to escape from the house and postphone the massive cleanup effort. (Truly, massive).. So we decided to try out the lights in Spanish Fork. After all, their billboards claimed they were the best lights in the state.

Good news: the billboards did not lie.

Bad news: the billboards did not supply the actual location of the lights. And we did not look it up before leaving home. The lights are way up in the mouth of Spanish Fork Canyon, and we (not being aware that there was a park up there) were certain we were lost as we'd tried to follow the signs showing the way. So we turned around and got ourselves truly lost. Luckily we know people who are not too cheap to have data plans on their phones, so we called a few of them and soon got back on track.

The lights were incredible, and exactly what we needed at the end of that day. Mr Renn has promised the boys that we can come back if they are good. I can never figure out what he means by such qualifications, but here's hoping.

Mr Renn may have missed his calling in life

2011-12-15T09:00:00.000-07:00

He turned into a gingerbread house perfecting machine the other night.

We bought our gingerbread house kit (included baked gingerbread pieces and meringue powder for royal icing) through Bountiful Baskets and it arrived looking like the corner bakery had just whipped the pieces up for us. They were très fresh, and we felt very fancy. Mr Renn immediately got into the spirit of the project.

I got the prosaic job of shingling the roof, then I tried to keep the kid's distracted with their graham-cracker houses while Daddy entered his element.

We are all pretty darn proud of his work. I am beginning to entertain ideas of taking this gingerbread architecture thing seriously some year. It could be fun without three kids hanging from our bodies. The rock candy and the chocolate covered sunflower seeds were from Winco. There were one or two fruity tootsie rolls rolled into insanely tiny pieces. Mr Renn must have a knack for making small things with his hands. Good thing he's a dentist.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Hear the Glad Tidings

2011-12-14T11:39:00.000-07:00

This is a surprisingly obscure Polish Carol, Dziasiaj W Betlejem. (It's obscure to us, not to the Polish.)
It reminds me of everything I love about Eastern European Christmas traditions. It even sounds something like a cuckoo clock. I love the translated version that Motab included on this album. I don't find any other recordings of the English translation, and that makes me sad. Why aren't contemporary artists taking advantage of these opportunities instead of recording the eleventy-millionth recording of "Blue Christmas" (??!!??!!) (The fact that the recording of this by Justyna (below) sounds so very Bollywood kind of makes me smile. - Not often in my world do Bollywood and Christmas collide.)

baby steps

2011-12-14T08:00:00.001-07:00

This little gentleman is funny. Experience has taught him to be oh-so-cautious. And so while we've gotten a random step or two out of him in tiny spurts over the last month, there's never been anything consistent. Certainly nothing I could capture. Granted, he spontaneously stands and sits and squats without support, and practically jumps in place sometimes. But somehow, last night, he decided his legs were sturdy enough to try some movement; over and over. He refused to go to bed, and we were getting frustrated with him until he busted these moves out. This video is after the 2nd attempt at putting him to bed. He would just holler eternally, "I'm not ready for sleeping, I'm ready to WALK PEOPLE!!!"

I guess he meant it. Made for a fun night around these parts. That and Mr Renn's mad gingerbread house skills. Photos of that adventure forthcoming.

Christmas Cookies

2011-12-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

This year, in the course of 5 days, I lived in the kitchen and made lots of messes. It's a tradition, and even though it's always a lot of stress and a lot of work, it wouldn't feel like Christmas to me without it.

So, this year we made:

Sugar Cookies
Holly Cookies
Biscotti
Spritz Cookies
Gingerbread Men
Cinnamon Meringue Stars (Zimtsterne)
Peppermint meringues
Hard Candy
and dark chocolate covered sea-salt caramels.

And my kids only ate 1/3 of it before I managed to give the rest away.

They are finally getting excited about "helping" with things like that. Please tell me that someday their help is actually helpful?!

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Pat-a-Pan

2011-12-13T11:38:00.000-07:00

We Americans tend to be completely oblivious to the treasure of French Christmas Carols. But there are a few we've likely come across a time or two, and the most prevalent of these is Pat-A-Pan. (Because of an English translation in the 18th century). The song reminds me of a little bird, but it's supposed to remind you of a snare drum. And I never resent being told to be merry. I need reminders. (The version from Mindy Gledhill's new album is pretty great.)

Saint Lucia

2011-12-13T11:30:00.000-07:00

Every year I get a tiny bit more authentic in my St. Lucia Day celebrations. This year I took the leap and made my first lussekatter. None of the boys at my house were wild about the stuff, but I felt all warm and fuzzy inside for being authentic. I also finally found the song that is supposed to be sung when the St. Lucia breakfast is delivered. I didn't manage to wake up and actually deliver the breakfast, let alone sing the song. But I have to leave room for next year's improvement, right?

Christmas Carol Spotlight: I heard the Bells (Mr Renn's favorite)

2011-12-12T11:37:00.000-07:00

Spend 30 seconds learning about the background of this song, and you will be knee deep in tears. Longfellow wrote it in the midst of a heavy, heavy dose of despair. His son had been mortally wounded in the Civil War (in which he had enlisted against Longfellow's wishes), and his wife had recently died as the result of an accidental kitchen fire at home. He wrote the poem on what must have been a very bleak Christmas Day in 1864. It was first put to music in 1872. Mr Renn loves singing an arrangement by Greg Hansen, that's pretty starkly different from the traditional arrangement. It's a departure from the tune written for the poem by John Baptiste Calkin. BUT I can't find any recordings of it. If you know of one, hook us up.

Christmas Stories: The Miracle of St. Nicholas

2011-12-11T15:11:00.001-07:00

The Miracle of St. Nicholas; another awesome Christmas book that has absolutely nothing to do with gifts or Santa or magic. (Which things are fine in moderation, but easily overdone come Christmas).

I SO wish this book were based on a true story. It actually has very little to do with St. Nicholas, unless you are into Orthodox iconography. It has everything to do with miracles. The kind that happen all the time, usually under the radar. (But if you are into Orthodox iconography, the illustrations will tickle you pink - they're all done with egg tempera)

While I'm mentioning St. Nicholas, I should admit to you that St. Nicholas' offerings this year (on St. Nicholas Day) were AGAIN suspiciously reminiscent of leftover Halloween candy. ONE OF THESE YEARS I am going to be more organized. (And PS, if St Nicholas is going to be leaving chocolate, do not place your shoes on a heater vent to receive it. You're welcome.)

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Rocking Carol (Little Jesu sweetly sleep)

2011-12-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

I had a devil of a time finding our much about this carol. I know it has a Czech origin, and I believe it was translated into an English version sometime in the early 19th century, But since I don't have unlimited time for researching, don't quote me on that. It's, to me, the best of the lullaby carols.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: King Jesus hath a garden

2011-12-10T11:35:00.000-07:00

This little known carol came into the spotlight when John Rutter (who is essentially the official composer of Great Britain) pulled it out of the archives and composed a choral arrangement of it in 1981. The original Dutch text was written in 1633 and it was originally put to music by George Woodward in Songs of Syon in 1908. There is so much symbolism in this hymn it boggles my mind - on scale with the 12 days of Christmas. So many layers.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: In Dulci Jubilo (Good Christian Men Rejoice)

2011-12-09T11:34:00.000-07:00

Good Christian Men Rejoice, as we know it, is J.M. Neale's 1853 English translation and arrangement of the Latin Carol In Dulci Jubilo. The tune dates to the middle ages, and was used as a theme for both a prelude and a postlude by Bach. J.M. Neale also contributed Good King Wenceslas and the English translation of Oh Come oh Come Emmanuel to our Christmas cannon. (He's kind of my Christmas Carol hero.)

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Torches

2011-12-08T23:33:00.000-07:00

This little ditty was written by John Joubert in 1951, for his wife and her music students. It was published in Carols for Choirs that same year, specifically intended for the Choir of King's College (my absolute favorite.) Despite being relatively new, it sounds ancient, and so vigilant.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Coventry Carol

2011-12-07T11:32:00.000-07:00

The Coventry Carol is perhaps the most depressing Christmas Song ever. Truly. So why do I love it? I guess I just love anything that makes me take a long hard look at the entirety of the Nativity. When you reduce it to a baby born in a barn, you've removed some of the most holy parts of it. This song is essentially about all the doomed babies that King Herod ordered slain. It is sad and haunting and incredibly reverent. You'll see.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: In the Bleak MidWinter

2011-12-06T11:31:00.000-07:00

In the Bleak Midwinter isn't nearly as old as some of my favorite Carols, but it has the advantage of having been written by a remarkable female poet, Christina Rosetti, in 1872. The poem became a Christmas Carol in 1906 and is one of the world's favorite Christmas hymns for choirs, as it is full of opportunities for dramatic pauses and individual expression. The song just feels so wise to me, it calms me down and reminds me to think outside of myself.

Christmas Stories: The Story of Holly and Ivy

2011-12-06T08:00:00.000-07:00

Being a book about a girl and a doll, this book, Holly & Ivy,had the distinct possibility of coming across as a "girl's" book. But I have to let you know that Sir O requested it for his bedtime story 3 night in a row. It's a bit longish for a children's book, but not outside of children's book limits. It is, perhaps, the most magical Christmas story ever. And Santa doesn't even get a mention. It's a story about the kind of hope and optimism that I would desperately want to cultivate in my kids. Plus; the idea that wishing makes a difference? I'm inclined to believe in it.

bright and shining

2011-12-05T17:00:00.000-07:00

Improve the shining moments. Don't let them pass you by.......

Somehow I've been blessed with an abnormal swell in shining moments lately. My kids have been cute and gracious (if overly sensitive) and I've been more patient than usual. I've been blessed with a phase of myopic observation I guess. I notice every cute and tender face, expression, act and question that my kids parade before me lately. And I spend a lot of time just observing them with a passive kind of wonder. Wowee, they are full fleshed-out spirits and my goodness their cheeks are soft and round. (And yes, their eyelashes are always an over-the-top mommy bonus). I notice when they screw their mouths into mauve rosettes and when they light up at the prospect of my undivided attention. I watch them slip into sleepy comas and their faces beam with contentment and their lax bodies loudly proclaim that they feel safe and secure in their little lives and the little worlds they are constructed within.

I have been exceptional at hugs and cuddles lately. And I beg a hug and kiss from the Captain every time he bounds into my lap. Someday he'll stop showering the world with them, and I have to stock up.

I still struggle like crazy to meet everyone's needs and still run an actual household. The cleaning and the cooking and the perpetual cycle of getting 4 bodies ready every day and each night is always more than I can successfully juggle. There are always lots of things that get left undone. And they always bother me.

But for a few days at least, I've been able to be more grateful than bothered. And more present. Somehow when you manage to be present there are golden moments in a terribly rich abundance. So many gifts wrapped up so thoughtfully in each day.

And maybe if I write this down, I will read it someday when I need it. And I'll be able to get into this groove for another spell of days and love every minute of it all over again.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Christ was born on Christmas Day

2011-12-05T11:31:00.000-07:00

Christ was Born on Christmas Day is a Hymn based on the Latin Text "Resonet in Laudibus" although it was never set to music until after it was translated. The Carol is dated to the 14th century. As far as I'm concerned for anything to date to the 14th century is mind boggling. I love the lulling rhythm in it, it makes me feel all cozy and sleepy and Christmasy. I wonder if it's been doing that for young mothers for 700 years?

fun with food

2011-12-04T23:42:00.001-07:00

My dear, dear HSF saved my bacon over the weekend and drove all the way down to my house for a visit. My kids went wild upon seeing her kids, and deep down inside I did about the same thing. She most graciously and patiently showed me through the rigmarole of macaron making. It was a ridiculously good time, other than the missed naps. I'm not sure what I've done right to land myself in such a one-sided friendship, but it's the bee's knees from my end.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: A Great and Mighty Wonder (aka Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming)

2011-12-04T11:30:00.000-07:00

The actual name of this Christmas Hymn is "Es ist ein Ros entsprungen" which translates into one English version known as "Lo, How a Rose e'er blooming". There are at least 3 known English versions of this hymn, all of which are considered Christmas carols. The "Great and Mighty Wonder" version is a translation of a St. Germanus Greek Text, while the "Lo, How a Rose e'er blooming" version comes from a 16th century German text. I love them both.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: The Cherry Tree Carol

2011-12-03T11:29:00.000-07:00

The Cherry Tree Carol is one of the oldest known Christmas Carols with what you would call a "traceable timeline." It is traced back as far as the Feast of Corpus Christi in the early 15th century. I love it because it's full of suppositions about Joseph, who's role in the Christmas story is so often and easily overlooked.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: Sussex Carol

2011-12-02T11:28:00.000-07:00

I have a huge softspot for old, deeply religious Christmas Carols. The first one I want to make sure you know about is the Sussex Carol. (Sometimes called by it's first line, "On Christmas Night, All Christians Sing" or alternately, "On Christmas Night, True Christians Sing.") It's lyrics were first published by an Irish Bishop in 1684. The combination of the lyrics with the tune they are most often sung with was discovered/recorded in 1919, and it's one of the first Carols that spring to mind when most people picture Dickensian or Victorian Carolers.
My very favorite version is here, but there are lots out there:

10 foot wonder

2011-12-01T22:31:00.001-07:00

Mr Renn arranged for a tree to be brought down for us from his Grandparent's home in Flaming Gorge. We made absolutely no specifications about the tree and had faith that they'd pick out a good one. We were a little surprised when our tree arrived and was so tall it barely fits in the tallest part of our vaulted ceiling!

While our little ornament collection looks rather sparse spread out over so much tree, and we had to double our twinkle light collection just to light her up, there's something really fun about having such an imposing tree in the front room. If I'd known I'd like it so much I'd have done it on purpose!

And the kid's have gone to town with our little ikea faker tree downstairs. It gets rearranged two or three times daily. Chaos, through and through. But they seem to be getting excited about Christmastime as much as for Christmas Day. And that's rather important to me.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: The Posada

2011-12-01T11:26:00.000-07:00

Mr Renn having served his mission in Mexico, and myself being so easily enamored with any and all traditional pageantry that can be associated with the Holidays, I fell in love with the idea of Posadas in about .08 seconds flat. I'd love to organize one of my own someday.

image by Leo Politi

But because I live where Christmas falls in the thick of Winter weather, a traditional outdoors procession is out of reach. Until I find a perfect solution, I can work on becoming familiar with the traditional music of Las Posadas. The most accessible version I've found is a snippet from the Search for Lodging in this medley by the MoTab. But if the Spanish is no barrier for you, I like this one as well.

A few introductions to this fun tradition are:

Christmas Stories: Uncle Vova's Tree

2011-11-30T08:00:00.000-07:00

This book, Uncle Vova's Treehas an utterly ridiculous list of things going for it. First and foremost, it is by the Mary Poppins of Children's Book authors, Patricia Polacco. Everything she creates is stunning and perfect. Secondly, it is an engaging introduction into Russian Orthodox Christmas Traditions, all of which I wanted to adopt after reading the book. And Third of all, it filled me with so much Christmas spirit I wanted to hug strangers in the grocery store the first day I read it.
You should own it, just for the warm fuzzies.

Christmas Carol Spotlight: The Cat Carol

2011-11-29T11:00:00.000-07:00

I wanted to find a way to validate my ridiculous collection of Christmas music (53 hours worth and counting. Currently 999 songs in my playlist, and always growing) and am choosing to highlight a few of my very most favorite songs and carols. Mostly I want to highlight their poetry and their history because I just love that sort of a collection of information.

And easy place to start is The Cat Carol, a relatively new and charmingly quirky little number written by Bruce Evans that can be found on this most excellent album.

It's simultaneously quirky and bizarre and utterly full of soul and somehow perfectly captures the melancholy element of sacrifice that is necessary to make anything actually taste like Christmas spirit. It makes me smile my toast and jam and fat socks smile and count my blessings and hug my kids. Listen to it here.

The Cat Carol
The cat wanted in to the warm warm house,
but no one would let the cat in
It was cold outside on Christmas Eve,
She meowed and meowed by the door.

The cat was not let in the warm warm house,
And her tiny cries were ignored.
'twas a blizzard now, the worst of the year,
There was no place for her to hide.

Just then a poor little mouse crept by,
He had lost his way in the snow.
He was on his last legs and was almost froze,
The cat lifted him with her paw.

She said "Poor mouse do not be afraid,
because this is Christmas Eve.
"On this freezing night we both need a friend,
"I won’t hurt you - stay by my side."

She dug a small hole in an icy drift,
This is where they would spent the night.
She curled herself 'round her helpless friend,
Protecting him from the cold.

When Santa came by near the end of the night,
the reindeer started to cry.
They found the cat lying there in the snow,
and they could see that she had died.

They lifted her up from the frozen ground,
and placed her into the sleigh.
It was then they saw the little mouse wrapped up,
she had kept him warm in her fur.

"Oh thank you Santa for finding us!
"Dear cat wake up we are saved!"
..."I’m sorry mouse but your friend has died,
there’s nothing more we can do.

"On Christmas Eve she gave you her life,
the greatest gift of them all."
Santa lifted her up into the night sky,
and laid her to rest among the stars.

"Dear mouse don’t cry you are not alone,
you will see your friend every year.
"Each Christmas a Cat Constellation will shine,
to remind us that her love’s still here."

Christmas Stories: Mr. Willowby's Chrismas Tree

2011-11-29T08:00:00.000-07:00

I added this book, Mr. Willowby's Christmas Treeto my collection because I remembered unearthing it year after year at my Grandmother's house, and the repetitive paradigm with which this story is constructed was pure delight to my soul as a small child. Happily that appears to be a universal experience, as my boys and every other person I've encountered who remembers this book gets the same dreamy sparkle in their eyes when they speak of it. Perfect perfect perfect for kids three and up, and has been magical in our house for getting otherwise antsy kids to sit and participate in some Christmasy story time.

flattened

2011-11-28T21:55:00.001-07:00

Somehow my kids have been snuffed out by a post-thanksgiving virus that is keenly opposed to my getting any sleep. A steady supply of gross bodily fluids is keeping me busy and keeping the little men cranky and clingy and up all night. I was up at least 7 times last night, it got to the point where falling asleep in between explosions did more harm than good. Thankfully I was able to cancel everywhere we are supposed to be for the next few days with relatively little angst or drama. I'm getting better at the "flexible" part of being a parent, at least some of the time.

I spent the potentially relaxing portion of Thanksgiving weekend stressing over having been asked to teach a Relief Society Lesson based on this talk. I hadn't taught adults in church since I was in college, and then, in a student ward, they weren't really adults, were they? Other than one not-unkindly delivered accusation of teaching false-doctrines it seemed fairly well received. I always thought I'd enjoy a teaching-adults-calling. But maybe it would be too much stress (placed on myself by myself) and too many opportunities to be criticized. Sadly I've got a personality where a dozen compliments are easily cancelled out by one well-meaning and kindly delivered criticism. I'm not alone in that, am I? How does one fix that, anyway?

I hope I always remember that Sir O persists in calling vomit "spit-up" because he hates the word "throw-up", and he's tentatively tried to use the word "vomit" but it usually comes out as "vomit-ing-ish" or something equally verbose. He ate little but jello, pedialite, and popsicles today. And caused me to urgently start 4 loads of laundry. Yet somehow, despite being up 5 or so times last night, he could not be talked into a nap today. And despite how lousy he must have felt, he only got really cranky about having to miss preschool. Otherwise he showed a promising amount of maturity in the midst of feeling craptacular. He was kind to and cognizant of his whiny, lousy-feeling brothers. He shared, he compromised, and he watched out for them when I was spread too thin to be everywhere. (Needed two of me today, one to nurse and one to clean up after vomit) Somewhere in the middle of my worn-out experience today, I noticed this and was grateful.

And now, as we all begin to dare to hope the worst is behind us (I'm not betting on a smooth night though), we are all focusing on our collective bright happy thought. There is a Flaming Gorge Christmas Tree with our name on it making it's way to our house tomorrow. If all we manage is to get that tree upright in our house, (and maybe avoid any more vomit on the carpet), then we'll call the day a success.

Perfect Pecan Pie

2011-11-28T08:00:00.001-07:00

Mr Renn surprised me with a pie class earlier this month, and I had an immediate opportunity to practice my little heart out. I was terribly, terribly pleased with how this pie came out. Pair it with some gingerbread eggnog and it's the perfect thing for a midnight snack. And maybe breakfast. Either way it'll disappear in a cloud of calories faster than any pie has any right to.

Pecan Pie

For Crust:

1 1/4 C unbleached all-purpose flour, chilled
1/2 tsp salt
1 TBSP sugar
2 TBSP + 1 tsp butter flavored shortening, cut in small cubes and chilled
2 TBSP + 1 tsp butter, cut in small cubes and chilled
2 TBSP + 1 tsp lard, cut in small cubes and chilled
1/2 tsp vanilla butter nut flavor extract
approx 5 TBSP ice water

Supplies

chilled rolling pin
food processor
chilled bowl
chilled pastry cloth
additional flour
pie weights or pennies
chilled 9" pie pan

In a food processor, mix flour, salt and sugar until combined. Add shortening and lard and mix until mixture resembles sand. Add butter and mix in short pulses until mixture looks like course pea-sized crumbs. Turn mixture into a chilled bowl.

Mix vanilla extract with first 4 TBSP of ice water and fold water into dough mixture with a spatula. Press dough together until it sticks, adding up to 1 TBSP more water. Flatter into a disk shape, wrap in plastic wrap, and move to refrigerator for 1 hr to 2 days.

Remove dough from refrigerator and let sit long enough to become malleable. Meanwhile, work flour into your pastry cloth by rubbing it in with your palms until you can lift your hands and they have no flour on them. If your pastry cloth slips easily on your work surface, place a Silpat underneath for friction.

Flour your chilled rolling pin and roll your dough into a 12" circle, turning over occasionally. Roll 1/3 of circle over rolling pin and move dough to chilled pie pan. Gently press dough into pan, careful not to stretch the dough, rather lift the edges up while you press into the corners. Trim edges of dough to about 1/2" beyond pan edges. Patch as needed, then fold edges under to create a thick edge, then crimp edge with fingers. Refrigerate 40 min until firm

Preheat oven to 375 degrees, line pie crust with double layer of aluminum foil, then spread pie weights or pennies to weigh bottom of crust down. Bake 25-30 min until dough looks dry and sandy in color. Remove from oven and remove foil and weights, then return to oven for additional 6 minutes. Prepare filling while crust is baking.

Pecan Filling (from The New Best Recipe cookbook, also known as my kitchen bible)

6 TBSP unsalted butter, cut into 8+ pieces
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
1/2 tsp salt
3 large eggs, beaten
3/4 C light corn syrup (remember to spray measuring cup with cooking oil spray first!)
1 TBSP Vanilla Extract
(I also added 1/2 tsp Maple extract and 1/2 tsp Rum extract)
2-2.5 Cups Pecans, toasted and chopped into small pieces (I toasted mine in the oven while it was preheating for the pie crust - be careful not to burn them!)

Melt the butter in a heatproof bowl over a pot of almost-simmering water. Remove bowl and stir in the brown sugar and salt with a spoon until the butter is absorbed. Beat in the eggs, then the corn syrup and vanilla. Return bowl to pot and stir until the mixture is shiny and hot (130 degrees on a thermometer). Remove from heat and stir in pecans.

As soon as pie shell comes out of the oven, reduce temperature to 275 degrees. DON'T FORGET THIS STEP

Pour pecan mixture into the hot pie shell, then bake on the middle rack until the pie looks set and soft, like gelatin. 50 to 60 minutes. Transfer to a cooling rack, and allow to cool for a minimum of 4 hours.

If you like to eat your pie warm, still cool the pie thoroughly so that it sets, then you can warm it in a 250 degree oven for 15 minutes before slicing.

Christmas Stories: A Christmas Memory

2011-11-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

There are writers out there who tend to abuse their storytelling superpowers (Gregory MacGuire comes to mind) and who draw us in with their incredible capacity for narrative and detail, only to stomp on us with their pessimism, bitterness, and belief that overall life and people are generally bad. Unfortunately, most of my encounters with Truman Capote have tasted this way. Fortunately, this one story of his has miraculously (perhaps unintentionally) stuck with me as pure and honest and raw and redeemed. And if you want to find a version of it with gorgeous, thoughtful, dreamy, idealized illustrations (by Beth Peck), then A Christmas Memory is your match made in heaven.

Despite being a childhood memory, I can't quite peg this as a children's book. There's too much nuance for that. But other than the (humorous) bit with the whiskey for the fruitcake, there's not really anything objectionable for children. (And I definitely get the sense that Capote edited his brains out to make that so.)

A lot of things intended to make me cry fail because I resent being manipulated. But occasionally something that's just intending to be honest makes me bawl my eyes out because nothing shakes my soul like an honest, redeeming reminder of the realness of real life. Throw Christmas-ness in there to boot and I'm a puddle.

I recommend it, I do.

Whipped Sweet Potatoes - Your new favorite thing about Thanksgiving

2011-11-26T08:00:00.000-07:00

I've been making these whipped sweet potatoes every Thanksgiving for 5 years. They always upstage the poor turkey. And every year I get hit with a bevy of recipe requests. I used to direct people to the blog where I found it, but since it's gone private my only option is to post it here so that the deliciousness can continue to be made known. Though I warn you, this is a but-once-a-year dish. Butter and sugar in a form like this cannot be good for you if you eat it more often than that.

Whipped Sweet Potatoes

5-6 small sweet potatoes (or 3 large yams)
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup melted butter
2 eggs
1/3 cup flour
additional 1/4 C melted butter

Topping

1/4 cup butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 tsp cinnamon
(optional: marshmallow creme or pecans)

Directions:
1. Peel and boil the sweet potatoes (or yams).
2. Combine and whip sweet potatoes, sugar, eggs, flour, and 1/4C melted butter
3. Layer mix into a 9x13" baking pan. Top mixture with 1/4 C melted butter.
4. Topping: Mix butter, brown sugar, vanilla, cinnamon and coat sweet potato mixture evenly.
5. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes (wait until it's bubbly)
6. After baking (which I've usually done the day before) I may rewarm the dish by placing in a 350 degree oven for 10 minutes.
7. If topping with Pecans, add these and then toast in 350 oven for 7-10 min.
8. If topping with marshmallow creme, warm creme in microwave for 10-15 seconds until it's easily spreadable, then after spreading on top of dish with offset spatula, place under broiler for about 2 minutes - check often so it doesn't burn!

9. Become incredibly popular when people get a taste of this and suddenly want to be your best friend. (And I'll be honest, I usually make 2-3 pans and it's never too much!)

Happy Stretchy Pants Day

2011-11-25T15:47:00.001-07:00

We had a really lovely Thanksgiving over here. Other than the part where Sir O stepped on my perfect Pecan Pie after it was loaded in the car, and then threw a library book into the whipped sweet potatoes, and where I never finished writing our Thanksgiving Ceremony. I'm telling you, NEXT YEAR is the year!
(And both the pie and the sweet potatoes are warranting their own posts, coming soon!)

After we were already feeling pretty sweet and sentimental about our kids and our lucky lives, Mr Renn and I put the kids to bed and started The Tree of Life. I say started because about half way through it I was sobbing so hard I'd given myself a full-blown migraine, and my mind already had so much to chew on that It took me almost 5 more hours to fall asleep. We will attempt to be brave enough to finish it in the next few days.

I had been forewarned that the film was meticulously paced, intentionally designed to provoke the viewer into uncomfortable and deep thoughts of their own. I was not, however, properly forewarned about the implications of young parents of three boys watching such a profoundly honest portrayal of a family of three boys. It caused us all kinds of healthy self-evaluation. And thankfulness. Oh my, so much thankfulness. Mostly for each other, and for every moment with three living, loving boys. But also for having the answers to all the uncomfortable questions that Mr. Malick was trying to ask.

If I can find a way around the migraine, it might be the perfect Thanksgiving tradition.

New Old Favorites

2011-11-25T07:00:00.001-07:00

A few of my new favorite Christmas songs from last Christmas:

A Wonderful Life - Indigo Girls

It Snowed - Meaghan Smith

You're Here - Francesca Battistelli

Thanksgiving Traditions: Thanksgiving Pageant

2011-11-19T08:00:00.000-07:00

Last year I stumbled across this book, The Thanksgiving Ceremony, and I loved the concept. in essence it captures the opportunity presented in sitting the family around for a ritualistic meal (Thanksgiving) and transforms it into a more meaningful ceremony, reminiscent of the Seder meal. As a firm believer in the power of ritual, ceremony, and family gatherings, I'm all over it. In adapting this concept for my own family, I'm also incorporating elements from Thanksgiving : A Time to Remember, and the script of The Mayflower Voyagers (found on A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving)

I'm hoping to incorporate a palatable dose of history, religion, and ritual and create something meaningful for the entire family. If you'd like a copy of my script, I'd be happy to email it to you once it's done. I'd best not link to it here, since it contains some passages verbatim from the sources above. (All of which are very much worth adding to your Thanksgiving library).

I'm excited. We'll see how it goes over the first time.

She's Perfect!

2011-11-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

My parents finally got a granddaughter this week. It was an answer to prayers all around. My little sister has been praying for a niece for years. I suppose if I can't have a daughter of my own, at least I can have a niece that looks this much like me. (She looks just like her mom's baby photos too, but I still feel like she's channeling a little Aunty Em.)

(baby me)

Thanksgiving Traditions: Favorite short stories

2011-11-17T10:00:00.000-07:00

As long as I'm focusing on giving Thanksgiving it's due, I'd better share some of my absolute favorite Thanksgiving stories. Many of these make me cry. That's always a sure sign that they're good, right? What are your favorites that I should add to my list?

The Thanksgiving Door by Debby Atwell
Squanto and the Miracle of Thanksgiving by Eric Metaxas
This First Thanksgiving Day: A Counting Story by Laura Krauss Melmed
A Child's Story of Thanksgiving by Laura J. Rader
Thanksgiving: Stories and Poems compiled by Caroliune Feller Bauer (within this book I especially loved Thanksgiving Day by Dorothy Fisher)
Beyond Turkey by Debbie Herman and Ann D. Koffsky
Tikvah Means Hope by Patricia Polacco (kind of a stretch to associate this with traditional Thanksgiving, it's more about Sukkoth, but it works for me)
The Thanksgiving Story by Alice Dagliesh
Thanksgiving Poems by Myra Livingston
Thanksgiving Tales: True Stories of the Holiday in America by Brian Jaffe
Thanksgiving: A Collection of Essays, Prayers and Toasts by Leslie Garcia
Thanksgiving: The Biography of an American Holiday (Revisiting New England) by James Baker
In November by Cynthia Rylant
and I'm currently listening to Short Stories For Thanksgiving - Endearing Tales Each Complete With A Musical Finale

taking their job seriously

2011-11-14T23:12:00.001-07:00

If it is true that my boys have the assignment and prerogative to wear me out, they are proving to be a smashing success.

Saturday evening, after being unanimously uncooperative for family photos, our kids quickly turned from being limp noodles into being fantastic weapons of mass entropy. While Mr Renn and I were straightening the house and preparing for our first date with a neighborhood babysitter in years (we've only had two in ... ever) Our Captain was hard at work concocting this:

A feat in metallic blue sharpie, it was all over the gentleman's hair, pajamas, neck, ears, face, and teeth. Go figure. But the bright side was that there was very minimal damage done to the carpet.

We were still finding blue streaks and speckles in the gentleman's hair when we bathed him tonight.

And in case that wasn't enough, which it clearly wasn't, a squabble between Sir O and the Captain today resulted in this:

After biting clean through his lower lip, our Captain got his first stitches, courtesy of his dad. And I got a lot of bloody laundry to wade through, this injury was a gusher.

Needless to say it was a HUGE blessing that Mr Renn happened to get today off. He's been working every day lately and that he chanced to be home when this happened was quite the tender mercy. I don't handle watching my children bleed or get alarming injuries very well. I turn into even more of a spaz than I already am. It's not the technicalities and gore of the injury, it's watching the panic in their eyes. Freaks me out.

And now, all the boys are asleep and I need to gear up and brace myself for their next test of my endurance. Ready, go.

Thanksgiving Traditions: letter challenge

2011-11-09T14:00:00.000-07:00

Thanksgiving traditions are kind of hard to come by if you are me.But nothing makes me so determined as the prospect of establishing meaningful traditions to frame the childhood of my boys, and so since becoming a parent I've invented and found a few that I'm fond of. In case you are in need of a lovely little ritual or two, I'm going to share.

This first tradition has to at least be thought about early on in November. The address chasing portion of it has the potential to take some time.I steal a few moments and make some lists.

First list: experiences I've had that I'm thankful for, but don't think about terribly often.
Second list - People involved in the experiences from list 1.
Third List - People from list 2 that I've lost contact with or haven't touched base with in a considerable amount of time.

And then, I exercise my reflective mind muscles.I sit myself down and start a few hand-written thank you letters. It should be noted that the hand-written part is important, even if your handwriting is as horrid as mine. It should also be noted that I've never actually made it through my entire list. But sending one or two is better than sending none at all.And once addresses are tracked down, I try to mail them so they'll arrive just before Thanksgiving.It's as simple as that, but it's one of my favorite little parts of November.

How the Springville Art Museum saves my bacon (a Thankful post)

2011-11-08T23:40:00.000-07:00

I am trying to take advantage of everything my new hometown has to offer. Maybe not "everything", but certainly anything I find out about that is 1. kid-friendly, and 2. free. As such, my kids are by now quite enamored with the fire station, library, and the Springville Museum of Art.

It is absolutely the most kid-friendly art museum I've ever dreamed of encountering. They have Family Nights the first Monday of each month, and we've loved them when we've been organized enough to attend. November's involved a mime and a stained-glass artist. The boys loved the mime but got antsy during the stained glass demonstration, so I took them for a walk (Captain riding on my shoulders = workout!) where they got excited over every cow, horse, dog, train, and child in the art.

Then they had a stained-glass-inspired coloring activity for the kids. The Captain was tired and indifferent, but Sir O was captivated. He's been terribly into coloring lately; (I think his preschool teacher has been praising his coloring skills, and his ego's all wrapped up in his art.) this activity was perfect for him. He cranked out 7 impressive pages in the time it took me to finish one. (Granted, I had to chase the Captain a few times).

He's been asking me about every 10 minutes when he can go back to the museum. The good news? We'll be there later this week for family photos. The bad news? He has to wait until next month for the next Family Night. But I am excited to take him to see the Children's Art Christmas exhibit. Seeing children's art exhibited so legitimately is bound to make for a very motivated, art-making-machine of a Sir O. I cannot tell a lie, I love it when that happens.

My Thanksgiving Playlist

2011-11-07T08:00:00.000-07:00

I'm trying ever so hard to not bust out non-stop Christmas music yet. (Snippets, fine.) And yet I find I have to listen to something festive, and so with a little help from itunes, I have a fine, fat Thanksgiving playlist (heavy on Jazz). If you or someone you know is opposed to Christmas music before Thanksgiving, then this may come in handy. Please chime in if you have any additions to suggest!

Kind and Generous - Natalie Merchant
Thankful - Josh Groban (don't judge)
The Pilgrims and the Indians - Janeen Brady
Everybody Eats when they come to my house - Cab Calloway
Now Thank we all Our God - old school MoTab
My Sweet Potato - Booker T. and the MG's
I'm Thankful to be me - Children's Songbook
Stuffy Turkey - Thelonius Monk
Thank you for one more day - The Dixie Hummingbirds
Now be Thankful - Fairport Convention
Is my Family - John McCutcheon
Thank You - Bonnie Raitt
A song of Thanksgiving - MoTab
Be Thankful - Natalie Cole
Mayflower Rock - Dizzy Gillespie
Thanksgiving Waltz - Jay Ungar and Molly Mason
A Grateful Heart - St. Paul's Cathedral Choir
Back Home Again - John Denver
We Gather Together - Glad
Count Your Blessings instead of Sheep - Bing Crosby
Thanksgiving - George Winston
Cherokee - Wynton Marsalis
Sweet Potato Pie - James Taylor and Ray Charles
Come, ye Thankful People Come - Festival Choir and Hosanna Chorus
Thanksgiving Song - Mary Chapin Carpenter
Plymouth Rock - Count Basie
Grateful and Thankful - Francis Dunnery
Autumn Leaves - Bill Evans
But Thanks be to God (Messiah) - John Alldis Choir
Gobble Gobble Gobble - Hilary James and Simon Mayor
Gravy Waltz - Oscar Peterson and Ray Brown
Thanks to our Father - Children's Songbook
Thanksgiving Theme, Charlie Brown - Vince Guaraldi Trio
Five Fat Turkeys - Let's Play Music, Red Balloon Album
That's my Home - Tony Bennet and K.D. Lang
Thank You - Ledisi
I've got plenty to be Thankful for - Bing Crosby

Halloweening

2011-11-03T17:46:00.000-06:00

My pile of photos to download and edit and file and upload and store had gotten so large I began procrastinating it purely out of dread. But, despite the untimely post, we really did manage to have some fun with our kids this Halloween. I gave up quickly on the idea of having official Halloween costumes. I just donated what were supposed to be the official Halloween costumes to the dress-up box and let the boys take their pick each time a costume was required. And so each boy ended up with at least three Halloween costumes. But I got Sir O to forego his floppy horse, so I'm still calling it a victory.

blank slates

2011-10-29T22:10:00.000-06:00

I remember the lavish, freeing sensation I got about two months into college when I realized that nobody knew who I was. I had spent my last year of high school carrying a ridiculous burden of reputation and gossip. Every person I encountered there had some distinct preconceived notion of who I was, and it was always tricky to tiptoe through it and attempt to improve or maintain any inclination to think well of me.

And as absolutely nobody followed me from my high school into my college experience, I got to start over. It was my first encounter with the concept of "personal branding." I am not generally one to worry about my reputation without worrying more about the substance and integrity behind that reputation, but I can admit that they are both on my radar. I always prefer that people associate me with happy and safe thoughts. If I can control it (which I usually can't) then I want people to think of me as trustworthy, compassionate, thoughtful, thorough, creative, and nurturing. And if I'm being honest then I also prefer that people associate me with good food and well-thought-out gifts.

( Me with two awesome ladies whom I suspect will totally understand what I mean, even if they also think I'm silly.)

And so each time we move and "start over," this is the personal brand that I set out to establish. I inevitably fail, but hopefully the overall themes are similar to those intended.

Somehow, this go-round, I am failing more than usual. My best attempts at creating and sharing good food have been especially ill-fated. Either entropy sneaks into my kitchen, or I manage to misgauge my audience so as to produce a perfect version of their least favorite food.

Which is all a very round-about way of mentioning that one of my favorite soups fared rather poorly at the ward soup-and-chili cook-off tonight. Not only was it not awarded any honorable mentions, but worse I brought back home more soup than I would have liked. I am silly for caring, and I know that. And so I am writing this to confront myself and shake it off. But I would really like, someday, to have established an effective enough personal brand that people want to eat something just because I made it. I want to be perfectly worthy of such a reputation, but watching people look forward to my food and my gifts is my favorite sort of compliment. It's a compliment that I still need to work to be eligible to fully earn, but reaching that point is awfully high on my list of things to do-and-be.

So, apart from thinking I'm crazy or vain, or both, what sort of a personal brand are you working to create? What do you want to be known for? Remembered for? Missed for? Do tell.

Pumpkin invites

2011-10-29T09:00:00.000-06:00

Have I told you lately how awesome my friend HSF is?

Despite being death-bed-gestating-vomitous, she whipped up the invites to the shower for me. I based them on these I spotted on pinterest:

And after the invites were made, she made these to match, isn't she amazing?

By the way, I'm pretty sure "cute" was the best word every chosen for this game. Total success!

Mini pumpkin doughnuts with maple glaze

2011-10-28T09:00:00.000-06:00

If it's possible, these tasted even better than they sound. My glazing abilities were thwarted by trying to transport the doughnuts and glaze separately and then assemble on site. So it turned into more of an icing. But a yummy one!

I used this recipe from Taste and Tell, and since Mr Renn couldn't find maple extract in stock when he ran errands, we substituted 2 TBSP maple syrup and reduced the milk a little. (But based on how thick it turned out, I wish I had added more milk, so there.)

I also only have a mini-doughnut pan and I doubled the recipe, so we ended up with over 100 doughnuts.

Once they were glazed (iced) I only got to taste one, they disappeared so fast!

Candy Apples

2011-10-27T09:00:00.000-06:00

I ended up putting my gold spray paint to use on these candy apples.

I really wanted to use the smallest apples I could find, but couldn't seem to get to a farmer's market to search for any small varieties, so I settled for the bagged apples from the grocery store. Bagged apples always seem smaller than loose ones. I used golden delicious for these, and I was worried they'd be too sweet, but they ended up being a perfect match for the candy flavoring I used. My only problem was keeping the Captain from taking a bite out of each of them before the party every started. He got to 4 or 5 of them, the turkey.

Carmel toffee candy apples

recipe....

Ingredients

10-16 small apples
" " wooden dowels or sticks
4 cups granulated sugar
2 cups light corn syrup
1 Cup hot water
1 Cup caramel flavor hard candies (I used these) (crushed if possible)
2-5 drops of English Toffee flavoring oil

Supplies

Baking Sheets
Aluminum Foil
Vegetable Oil Spray
Stock Pot
Candy Thermometer

Begin by lining 1 or 2 baking sheets with aluminum foil or parchment paper. Don't use wax paper, it will melt. Spray with cooking oil spray.

Clean your apples well and insert your sticks so they can support the weight of the apple.

In your LARGEST pot (trust me - it needs to seem way too big, this stuff expands like crazy), combine the water, corn syrup and sugar over medium high heat. Stir until the sugar dissolves, then STOP STIRRING. Keep candy thermometer inserted and watch for the candy temperature to reach 250 degrees.

At 250 degrees, add the hard candy and flavoring oil and stir briefly to incorporate. STOP STIRRING.
Clean sides of pan with wet pastry brush to prevent crystalization. Continue to cook until temperature reaches 285 degrees (F).

Remove pot from heat and stir just until mixture is smooth. Tip pot to an angle and hold first apple by the skewer and dip in the candy mixture. Rotate apple until it is covered in a smooth, even layer. Lift above candy and twirl to remove excess, then set on prepared baking sheet to cool. Repeat with remaining apples.

Allow apples to cool before spraying with foodgrade spraypaint. Apples should be consumed within 2 days.

23k gold cake

2011-10-26T09:00:00.000-06:00

As I was collecting pinterest ideas for this shower, I couldn't get over this cake from Desserts for Breakfast. It was a stunner.

Even though I had wanted to do an all-gold cake, like this one, and had already ordered the food-grade gold spray paint for it. Now I had to order gold leaf sprinkles instead. Sheesh. (But since they are so pricey I was a lot stingier with them, wasn't I?)

I didn't use Stephanie's cake recipe (I used a tried and true recipe from Rose instead) But I did attempt the frosting recipe, substituting strawberry puree for Ollalieberry puree. It almost worked. I didn't use the oreos in the frosting, but used them whole to stabilize the layer of frosting in between the layers of cake instead, which worked awesomely. I also followed her recipe for the ganache, but ended up with a tiny amount, I think I should have maybe doubled it to get her decadent drippyness. And I didn't get the sprinkles on in time to look as fluid as hers either. Things like that happen when you are working in someone else's kitchen and have kids hanging from your body.

BUT

It was still a pretty awesome cake.

yes we're festive

2011-10-25T19:42:00.001-06:00

After lots of requests from Sir O, our family made our first (ever) pumpkin patch visit. I think we found a pretty sincere one; conveniently located about a mile from our house, making it an easy choice. We spent half of our time there trying to locate at least one of our children, but I'm still calling it a success. We were impressed with the place - everything (except the pumpkins) was free. New family tradition? Check.

And now we have 5 pumpkins to carve...... and 5 pumpkins worth of seeds to roast. Looks like a busy week!

pink and gold baby shower

2011-10-24T23:41:00.000-06:00

The past week has been full of preparations for a baby-shower for my sister-in-law. My parents are finally getting a granddaughter, and are over the moon. My mom asked me to help her throw this shower, and I did my best to make it thorough and lovely without over-committing myself. I only failed a little, all things considered.

I went with pumpkins, it being so close to Halloween. But being a baby shower, I went with gold, sparkly pumpkins. And lots of pink. Still, there is only so much you can do to make a church classroom with fluorescent lighting feel lovely. (And it was on the North side of the building, I was so hoping to rescue things with natural light.)

But because I worked as hard as I did on this party, I'm inclined to share my favorite parts of it. Which are inevitably dessert items. A couple of recipe posts to follow. You'll thank me.

see for yourself

2011-10-24T09:14:00.000-06:00

Last weekend Mr Renn commandeered our to-do list, and we had a field trip to visit the Grotto in Payson Canyon and get our fall color fix.

The Grotto trail is the perfect hike for small kids. It's less than a mile to hike both in and out, and there aren't any steep inclines. There may be significantly more water other times of year. But as of our trip, had one of our kids fallen in the stream, they would have been wet but perfectly safe.

And if you happen to visit in October, bring your camera. And a few extra memory cards. The canyon was crawling with hobby photographers, and for good reason. It was a stunning drive, and it smelled just like October should. Sometimes taking a break and running away (as a family) turns out to be the best idea.

(if Harry Potter were a tree.....)

permission to land

2011-10-17T08:00:00.002-06:00

In my recent bout of identity crisis, I decided to give myself permission to do more than pine after scholarly pursuits. I've done little but pine since I curtailed my academic career and graduated with a BA but without completing my emphasis or my minor a few months after marrying Mr Renn. (In order to work full time and secure income and health benefits, a decision based on fear that I think we both regret a bit - most decisions based on fear end that way).

But, with no obvious way to fund this self-granted permission, I was running in circles for a bit.

Luckily I was given the inside scoop on the Weekly Reading Seminars hosted by BYU's English Department. Free and open to the public. It still scared me to death to begin attending. Motherhood has done little for my confidence around adults, and has certainly shrunk my comfort zone. But with a godsend of a babysitting swap in place, I ordered an embarassing amount of used books on Amazon (because nothing I needed was available at my city library), and determined to attend these seminars prepared to have intelligent conversations with world-class writers. The likelihood of me opening my mouth is not great here at the beginning of this endeavor. But I'm being exposed to some phenomenal paradigm altering writing, and then having the chance to hear and meet the humans behind it. It makes me all tingly to think of it.

I have hopes that if I take this pursuit seriously that I can, over time, meet some people and make some friends and get some guidance on returning to school, on some very slow and steady, family-centric terms. Because while learning blazing white truths is and should be the most important angle of this or any other interest, having more concrete goals always seems to keep me motivated in a more impressive manner. And, truth be told, a doctorate is on my bucket list. I don't need it right away, but feeling like I am ever so slowly working toward it and acknowledging it as a real goal feels just about right. And for now, you can't beat free momentum.

The highlight so far has been the indescribable joy of being in a room with Brian Doyle. There's an energy and love emanating from the man with more brilliance than the Sun. I can't help suspecting, based on what I've read and heard, that his particular energy could be pegged as the Spirit of Elijah. He's got it, I'm telling you. And he gets it. Everything he creates is informed by the idea that family relationships create the vast majority of meaning in life. He gets love and the value of the prosaic and what really matters and why. And he cries in public. Such a human full of life and truth and love and words.

I shall certainly be improved by this venture, as a mom, a wife and a human being.

take off

2011-10-14T12:00:00.000-06:00

Sir O appears to be the type who needs to do things on his own terms. Try to push him against his grain and you confront a litany of undesirably behaviors. But when he's good and ready to tackle something, he does it with bravado and utter thoroughness.

And so it was that after 2 miniature attempts at teaching him to ride a bicycle in July, we had consigned ourselves to leaving the training wheels untouched and assumed that we'd be waiting to tackle that one until next spring.

But wait.
Sir O was busy changing his mind behind our backs. After watching (apparently with tremendous power of observation) the neighbor kids zip up and down the street on their bikes (and his best friend in particular), Sir O talked himself into riding his bike right now, in a matter of hours on an October Monday afternoon.

He insistently asked his dad to take off his training wheels, because he knew how to ride it now. He'd been watching, and with him that means something. Mr Renn and I were in the thick of a sticky grape juicing endeavor, and by the time Renn made it into the garage, Sir O had already found a wrench and removed one training wheel.

By the time the second training wheel was off, Sir O was so ready and bound and determined that Mr Renn was beginning to worry about fallout if this didn't go well. But, as we should have expected, Sir O is ready when he's ready. And as soon as he was propped up and pedaling, he took off on his own. No training or coaxing or "don't let go" dramatics. Just one inimitable son living life on his own terms. Renn hollered me out of the kitchen and as soon as I had documented the miracle of Sir O and the bicycle, I scolded them all for the lack of helmet and returned to tend the grape juice.

In the meantime, Sir O has spent every possible moment floating like a speedy spirited bird up and down the street. (With helmet) I'm always torn between being proud of his spirited accomplishment, and worried that his headstrong ways will be the source of unimaginable future angst. He is what he is; he came the way he came. I can only do what I can, which is inevitably inadequate and broken. I have to place my will and my wish for control in regards to his little body and large spirit on an altar and watch them burn and blow away. I have to trust that God knows better than me what will reign in all this zeal and steam and refine it into something divine. And I have to ask God to keep his bike aright as he begins to flit and dart and turn in hair-raising ways. I'll be diligent about the helmets, and pray.

The manic matinee

2011-10-14T08:27:00.000-06:00

I find myself alone with the boys a lot lately, for good reasons. But we all get a little stir-crazy after too much of mom and three boys in the house. So I have to be constantly coming up with alternatives for the boys to their default activity of embodying entropy and scattering objects around the house in nonsensical frenzies. Yesterday we found these paper bag puppet kits in the bottom of the halloween box and I let Sir O construct them all by himself. (There wasn't a great deal of assembly involved.) Then, around bedtime I let them record a puppet show for their dad. As a puppet show, it's an abysmal failure. But as an entertaining slice of life, it delivers in unexpected ways. These boys, with their insanity and energy, make up my days. They wear me out. In the best possible way a person can be worn out.

recovering the satellites

2011-10-13T23:36:00.000-06:00

(photo by Sir O)

I've spent an unfortunate bulk of my week fighting a sinus and ear infection. By fighting I guess I mean "being slowed down by" because there weren't many moments when I managed to do anything proactive to fight it. No resting, no consistent remembering to drink more fluids, just pushing through trying to take care of people who need me even though I feel like I'm 6 feet underwater.
It's an odd part of this young mothering phase of life. It can get so intense and tunnel-visioned in these deep, deep trenches. Many small children (a blessing) with the energy (a blessing) to take on the world, but no clue how to harness their power into anything constructive. So I teach, I discipline, I suggest, I direct. I clean up and clean up and clean up. I feed and clothe and change and dress. I put the same object back where it goes a hundred thousand times. I fight entropy in a massive hopeless fight every minute of every day, because I know that there are 3(4) little boys who desperately need all the calm and order and routine and safety and home-ness that I can muster for them. It is an act of love, any way you look at it. Even if I don't always feel as charitable as I ought as I do it. But such an act of love is bound to be consecrated somehow, even if in spurts. And so at least some of my daily fight is made holy, and I find every morning that I can do it for at least one more day. Even if I am doing it underwater.
I guess the good news is that antibiotics are on board and doing their job.
And project "taking better care of myself" shall commence in 3....2.....1.....

i blinked

2011-10-10T22:15:00.000-06:00

Time is a'flying. Because it seems impossible that it's been a year since we did this:

But then again, look how our gentleman has grown...

So I guess it wasn't just yesterday, was it? We let our gentleman celebrate with a Sir O-made crown and a fistful of spice cake, shared with neighbors (not the fistful of cake, but the cake proper). And he charmed us all. If he proves this charming 20 years from now there will be many young women with broken hearts on his behalf. It cannot be helped. But until then he can just practice melting my mom-heart over and over. Such a boy.

I felt guilty not planning a proper birthday party, as I've done for the other boys when they turned 1. (See here and here) but October has been such a busy month for family gatherings already, and we haven't been living here long enough to have an impressive network of friends who are invested in our kids. So there was nobody to invited to a proper party. I shall have to make it up to him in the future. (Is a pony in order? My dad just gave himself two new horses for his birthday....)

Let's Play Music

2011-10-08T08:00:00.000-06:00

Sir O has begun taking music classes, and I think they're brilliant.

Our neighbor across the street is a teacher for the program called Let's Play Music, and it was clearly constructed by really smart people who know so much about music theory and child psychology that their brains must have exploded from genius overload by now. The premise is teaching children principles of music through play, and it seems to be a magnificent match for Sir O and his overwhelming personality. With my imperfect grasp of music theory myself, I get overwhelmed when I think of all the concepts they've already introduced, but Sir O doesn't get overwhelmed one bit, because to him it is all games and play. Singing major scales and bouncing around with solfeggio signs, it's impressive. I must find a way to make this genius concept work for me in other arenas. Think I can fool him into a rousing game of "make your bed and brush your teeth"?

moon juice

2011-10-06T08:00:00.000-06:00

They are seedless table grapes of an unknown variety. Our next door neighbors planted them shortly after moving in, purely for ornamental reasons. The vines have found that our side of the fence is sunnier, and October dawned on bushels and bushels of grapes on our side of the fence.
What to do?

We were both under the impression that table grapes cannot be juiced, but I felt guilty about wasting them, so we asked around and read around and all that we could find for certain was that green table grapes have a considerably lower sugar content than the juicing grapes we both grew up with.
In the end, I had compulsively acquired a steam-juicer, and we decided we had nothing to lose.

And so I found myself, on an overfull Monday, sitting in my garage plucking grapes from their bunches, one at a time, one of those prosaic moments that allow my brain to wander and race. The light in the garage was just so that each grape seemed like a little chinese lantern, with a quality of translucency that captured every iota of incidental light. With their often freckled faces, the grapes began to remind me of moons, glowing with borrowed light and reminding me of the vast expanses of creation.

Then I began to wonder if the process of creating and placing the moon just so was anything near as sticky or labor intensive as plucking 10,000 grapes and collecting them in a bucket. I don't buy the idea that the creation of worlds without end was effortless or instant. A world like mine doesn't come together without exceeding care. And most things that are worth doing have unpleasant parts, like my sticky fingers.

In the end, our grape juice was blush, and perfectly palateable. If we ever get all the grapes picked and processed we shall be swimming in the stuff. But I will always look at it and think of the moon and its Maker and His sticky fingers.

why yes, I did just go awol for a bit, didn't I?

2011-10-05T10:37:00.001-06:00

September, all told, is doing me in. Between the structure of having Sir O and the Captain in their various preschools and classes, and the onslaught of allergies and migraines that arrived with the changing of seasons, I have been beaten into the ground.

But during my never ending game of catch-up, there have been tender mercies aplenty.
I really do love my life. Even the hard parts, but for now the hard parts are only hard because they wear me out, not because they give my soul road rash. It's a nice phase, and I hold my breath. Conditioned response.

Last night I had the boys to myself, and my attempt at a fun dinner of crepes got lousy reviews. So instead of cleaning up dinner properly, I loaded the boys in the car and drove up the canyon in the rain. I'm not familiar with any of my local places yet, so I pulled over several times just to look around, and we found a park where the smell of wet October on russian olives was unmistakably divine.

I did my best to warn the boys in advance that it was a short trip, dusk was heading in, and the stuttering rain could start again anytime. Usually establishing such expectations in advance is helpful, but I think this evening was just a lost cause. I essentially strongarmed each child into their carseat, stripped articles of clothing that were too wet or muddy for a charitable mother to expect her child to keep on their person, and drove home with a siren of whining in chorus behind me. I threatened a few times to pull over and let whiners out. Then began pondering if there was a way to follow through on that threat without subjecting myself to arrest and a debut on the 10 o'clock news. Especially considering all the articles of clothing they were missing.

Thankfully it occured to me to find something for the little whining men to look forward to. They are, after all, my progeny. And I become the whiniest most unmotivated version of myself without a joy or two to anticipate. So I offered to pull out the Halloween decorations, and my lucky stars aligned and the right buttons were pushed. Suddenly the whining melted into excitement. We were all pleasant again, other than the migraine and the mud. I emerged from the mouth of the canyon triumphant. It's a small triumph, but I'm owning it.

Preserves

2011-10-05T08:00:00.000-06:00

Mr Renn has been in a canning frenzy lately, and it's been ridiculously fun. I can never keep up with the man. In less than 24 hours he had our apple tree stripped of apples, and a counter-full of processed applesauce to show for it. Also, we planted 2 rows of beans (plus our bean tent) just so we could make dilly beans this year. We've been making weekly batches and it's just possible we will actually have enough on hand to get sick of the stuff. Not likely, mind you, but possible.

what a small gentleman does

2011-09-28T08:00:00.001-06:00

This little man is bolting for toddlerdom. He's got teeth popping out all over the place, a perma-drooly-grin, and a penchant for trying to stand on his own. Stairs are finally mastered both up and down (usually) and he loved his first taste of garlic recently when I caved and let him try the cauliflower soup I'd made for dinner (it was a pureed soup, no choking hazards, just a whole lot more flavor than he usually gets).

He is so defiantly happy. Sometimes he overwhelms me with his loveliness. It is hard to stay hurt or frustrated or forlorn when he looks at your unhappy face and giggles like mad. I ought to be loaning him out for this benefit.

I find that between Mr Renn and myself we have inexcusable penchants for taking ourselves too seriously. I thank God quite regularly for sending us the perfect children to remind us to have fun and be kinder to ourselves. There are thousands of opportunities to laugh and romp and squish little faces every day. I waste most of them, but I catch enough to remind my heart that I'm part of a great work in this little borrowed house of ours. Something so marvelous that my brain doesn't even try to comprehend it, and gets silly and forgets half the time. But I can sometimes be grateful if not wise.

a certain scent of failure

2011-09-27T11:53:00.000-06:00

On Friday I ventured to my first estate sale. I think I've always waited for someone who was comfortable in the realm of buying other people's stuff to invite me along with them. The interpersonal aspect of it gives me knots in the pit of my stomach. "Hi stranger, how much do you want for this here posession?" I guess because I'm sentimental I assume other people have sentimental value attached to their belongings as well.

This was a bad first estate sale. But I didn't know that in advance. I just saw this gorgeous quarter-sawn oak dresser listed online for pennies, and since our gentleman's clothes are still living in boxes on the floor of his closet, I had to give it a try. I begged for our favorite neighbor to listen for my kids on the monitor and took off insanely early.

I got there 10 minutes early, but I may as well have been an hour late. There were people crawling everywhere. It was impossible to tell who was running the show. I finally spotted someone asking a lady a question and approached her to inquire about the lovely dresser. It was still in the house, in the basement. For a tiny moment my heart leapt. But then a tall, middle aged, confident lady behind me piped up with, "Oh, I was looking for it too!". I was sunk. I could tell she was a pro. But she didn't want to exert all of her powers of thrifting over such an obvious novice as I, so she kept giving me opportunities to bow out gracefully. I tried to be stubborn. I certainly needed the dresser more than she did, but she kept laying out, her "craftsman home" that she was trying to fill with "period pieces" as though it was the reason the dresser already rightfully belonged to her. I had more money on me than her, but she waved her magic cell-wand and her daughter showed up with several hundred dollar bills and I had no reason to hope.

In the end I lost the dresser in a game of "choose a number between 1 and 10", the confident lady let her granddaughter pick the number. 2, "but I always choose 3, it's my lucky number." Which, having said that I could choose neither 2 nor 3, because hadn't she just essentially chosen them both? I went with 5, thinking the odds were decent for me, but the number had been 3. Of course. So I helped load the dresser into the confident lady's truck with a leaden heart.

What made this experience all the more painful for me was that the estate sale was clearing out the possessions of a lady who was very much alive. and present. and sobbing. She was, of necessity, moving in with a daughter, and the stuff had to go. But oh, how she sobbed on the porch.

And so, after losing and feeling that I'd begged a babysitter, driven miles, and forfeited my dignity in vain, I found it difficult to stay and peruse anything else at the sale. But leaving straight away tasted too much like being a sore loser to me. Even if I am a sore loser, I'm still opposed to acting like one. So I bought a small bookshelf and a ladder. There was another dresser in the house, I probably ought to have bought it and called it good. But the other dresser was so very very ordinary compared to the magnificent images my mind had created of restoring the remarkable one. I didn't have the spirit to draw that much attention to myself. I couldn't move a dresser without help. I needed to hurry home and nurse my wounded pride and anxiety. Just as soon as I'd made an acceptable show of good sportsmanship.

The problem is, that the whole experience has festered for me all weekend. I'm so frustrated at the condescension of the confident lady. I'm exasperated with her lucky guess. I'm haunted by the woman sobbing on the porch. I wish I could just make it all go away. But, unable to do that, I can at least vow to never go to an estate sale alone again. So unless you invite me, you will not run into me there.

the pleasantest thing ever a boy could do

2011-09-21T08:00:00.000-06:00

Our Captain has an obsession.
Big time.

This boy loves to swing.
And after I failed to talk Mr Renn into jumping all over a free swingset on craigslist (it was free on the condition that you disassemble and relocate it yourself, and he was not up for that hulabaloo) I went for the next best thing and bought a swing at Ikea and rigged it in our largest backyard tree.

I think this boy would sit on that swing all day long if he could find someone to push him that long.
But, since nobody's that available around these parts, we compromise. It looks like this:

Progress Report

2011-09-20T08:00:00.000-06:00

Mr Renn has been steadily working on restoring the antique table and chairs we inherited from his grandparents. They only had 4 chairs to give us, so I hunted for more, and we stumbled upon an almost identical set up in Logan. Okay, maybe not identical, but very similar and just as old, therefore nearly as awesome.

The chairs are slow going, mostly because buying new leather for them is going to cost so much, but Mr Renn has nearly declared the table complete. We had to essentially build the apron on the leaves (leafs?) only one of which was a surviving original to the table. But it's a neat piece of history to have in our house, as we know of at least 2 progenitors who were born on that table. I know; gross but somehow also really cool.

a veritable smorgasbord

2011-09-19T08:00:00.000-06:00

We are not known for our spontaneity around these parts, but I did talk Mr Renn into spending his day off at the State Fair last week. My dad was working in the emergency preparedness booths (he basically IS the UEARC), and had free tickets for us. We managed a pretty frugal outing at the fair. Two $1 hot dogs, one batch of tickets on the giant slide (that came out of my wallet, I just couldn't handle the sensation that I was torturing my children with all this "you can watch, but you can't do...") and one $3 round inside the all-you-can-eat ice cream tent. I'm pretty sure each of those involved a potty emergency. Somehow kids can just sense when there's no convenient way to take them to the restroom, they wait for these moments and then they strike.

Luckily there are actually things to see and do that don't cost more than the price of admission. We checked out most of the livestock, the produce, the honey bees, the photography, the floriculture, the paintings, sculptures, the "home arts" (free popcorn demonstration!), and the perennial favorite, the kid's farm exhibit.

By the end our kids were so over-tired and over-sugared that there was naught to do but collapse in the car and head home. There was fall-out from both the staying up late and the "essentially having ice cream for dinner." I'm glad we don't do this more than once a year. But I have to tell you, they had Aggie ice cream AND BYU Creamery ice cream. And all that awesome in one melting pile in front of you almost brings you to tears. (and a sugar coma)

everybody needs one

2011-09-16T08:00:00.000-06:00

It has been an interesting phenomenon; for the first time ever Sir O has a legitimate best friend.

It's a tale of utter serendipity, and it makes me all smiley inside and out. This little man belongs to some dear friends of mine that I met in college, who happen to live right across the street. I didn't know this until the day we moved in, and it felt like God was giving me a gentle pat and assuring me that He's very much participating in this crazy little life of mine. These delightful people have been the best neighbors of all time. We adore them, and our kids adore their kids. But most of all, Sir O adores his best friend, or at least he adores having a best friend. It's as though he needs his daily ration of time with him or he starts to suffocate. And both he and the Captain fight over who gets to "be" or play with or talk about this Mr Sunshine. Pretty much all day long.

This is a problem I'm happy to have. Bring on the problems that come with having lovely friends! I'll take them, I'll take them!

finished unfinished

2011-09-14T08:00:00.000-06:00

Due to the part where I had a wedding to service only 2 days after moving in, the room/unfinished area that serves as my craft room/studio kind of got steamrolled into a manic disaster. Boxes and "stuff" shoved everywhere. It was bad. And since it's an area where I can close the door and play "out of sight, out of mind" it was taking me a while to do anything about it.

But then, enter the magic shelves. They are magical because they were free. Free is pretty prodigious.I saw them all lined up on the front porch of a house near my parents' that I knew was scheduled for demolition. (Which is sad, it was a darling old house.) I called and pestered until the busy people who owned the shelves finally got back with us and said they were happy to find a home for the shelves (and anything else salvageable from the house before it came down). So the shelves lived in my parent's yard for a while until we were able to get them back to our house.

And now, other than a bit more sorting of individual bins and boxes and piles, this unfinished area is as finished as it's getting under our watch. For the first time EVER I have all of my crafting/sewing/floral/wrapping supplies at my fingertips. It's an awfully empowering sensation. And it's a relief to know that my floral container collection isn't quite as out of control as I'd feared. The paintings in this room were all done my Mr Renn as a boy. I hope to move them to more visible spots around the house if I can make them work in any of our spaces.

fish n' chips n' pickles

2011-09-12T07:46:00.000-06:00

Mr Renn, as I have mentioned many a time, is a ginormous fan of Alton Brown. Truly, it's huge.
And Alton Brown can convince Mr Renn to eat and cook and bake things that I cannot. He just pulls more influence in that realm than I do. Sometimes that seems ridiculous and unfair, but when Alton provokes Mr Renn into a frenzy of battered-frying, I do not complain.

Enter: Fish and chips and deep-fried battered pickles. The goodness knows no bounds.

a first word

2011-09-10T07:37:00.000-06:00

This is kind of a big deal for me....

Other than his given name, this is Sir O's first attempt at writing a word on his own.
When he showed it to me I was ecstatic.
Nevermind that what he meant to write was "CLOSED" and that "KOST" isn't close enough to that for me to guess it. He still did it of his own volition. It was in reference to his "art creation station" where he'd been churning out drawings of tractor-trailers all afternoon. He had to close it for a dinner break, and ever since he proclaimed that "art-ing" was his job around here, he takes his art production very seriously. (If you'll remember, his job is "art-ing", Mr Renn's job is to be a dentist, and my job is to keep the babies safe.) (I don't think he yet comprehends the scope of my job..... neither do I.)

ETA

2011-09-10T01:06:00.003-06:00

Here is Sir O on his first real day of school (last post's photos were from the preschool openhouse the week before.)

It's good to know that his anxiety is still alive and kicking. So far every day I drop him off a very reluctant and clingly little man, and by the time I pick him up again he's all smiles and delight. He's also decided he's old enough to dress himself. The only control I have over his wardrobe from here on out is with my purchasing power. Once it's in his closet, he's in control. (Kind of scary, AND makes me feel old.)

here we go again

2011-09-08T07:00:00.000-06:00

Sir O is starting preschool again, which means a return to rigid structure and routine around these parts. I hope that proves to be a good thing for all of us. We all need more sleep. And I could use a few moments each week with fewer than 3 children on my hands. Knowing that this year will be a curricular review for him, I'm hoping that he can master more social skills, manners, and his bladder. Boys, I tell you, can be hard that way.

In the meantime, I get to dig into the kindergarten and elementary school research fog. I'm really tempted to try to get Sir O into a Spanish immersion program at the nearest Elementary school. But I need to find out what the school's boundaries are, and what the implications for trying to keeping him in the program would be if we ever moved outside of those boundaries. Sound fun?

Well, if that isn't fun, then at least this will be:

Preschool Ahoy!