C'mon 2009!

Tomorrow begins a new year, so it only makes sense to do the blog recap thing as we say so long to 2008. So, in no particular order of importance, in 2008...

...Harrison turned three and finally potty trained.

...Emma learned how to run and was finally able to sort of keep up with her big brother.

...Brendan nearly completed our swimming pool deck before the snow began to fly, with much help in the form of manual labor and moral support from our families. Big thanks to everyone for pitching in!

...Max the Rabbit left us, leaving a hole in our hearts that was formerly filled with his funny bunny ways. You are fondly remembered, Max.

...I started to learn to play the guitar and someday I hope to be able to play something without looking at my hands.

...Harrison got his first two wheel bike and after two days of riding declared that he was ready for us to remove the training wheels. We told him that he might be ready, but we are not. And that is the truth.

...We took a lovely family vacation at Lapland Lake for the second year in a row and vowed to return again in 2009.

...I lost my Grandma and somehow manage to smile every time I think of her, despite being overwhelmingly sad that she is gone.

...Emma turned two and FINALLY started using words and sentences! Hooray for big leaps in development!

...Harrison started preschool and thrived on the structure of it all, leaving Emma and I to our own devices for seven hours a week. It's been lovely getting to know my daughter, and lovelier still knowing that Harrison is socially and developmentally on target with his peers.

...Brendan got an iTouch for Christmas and was never heard from again. Just kidding. But he is quite enamored of his new technology, as well as the cool factor that goes along with it.

...I ran my first 5k, the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Albany, NY. It was a completely humbling yet life-affirming experience and I cannot wait to start training for the race this spring. I ran for our lost school-mate, Lisa Joseph, and my mom's friend, Tonya Markham.

...We made the best purchase for our house ever when we got a woodstove. I am sitting beside it right now, all toasty warm and cozy.

...We finalized Emma's adoption, becoming an official family of four!

...We celebrated with numerous family and friends as babies were born and other adoptions were finalized. It is so much fun to see other families growing!

...We drank a lot of tea.  Which we always do, but we drink so much that it is certainly worthy of mention.

We won some, we lost some. We laughed and cried, we spent happy days and frustrated days, we wished some days away and hoped others would stretch on forever. And now, sitting here on this last night of the year it seems as though all of it, all of those millions of moments, went by in a flash. I can honestly say that I am looking forward to 2009 and all that it may, or may not, bring. I am looking forward with great hopes for our families, friends, country, and world.

Wishing you and yours a very happy, safe, and peaceful New Year!

We Took A Few Pictures One Day

Today Is A New Day

When our son, Harrison, was two he stood up on the changing table one day and declared “Today is a new day!” in a voice both loud and clear, full of the self-confidence and anything-is-possible optimism of toddlerhood.  The words were not his own original thoughts, of course, but were a quote from his then-favorite movie, Chicken Little.  In the movie Chicken Little is a misunderstood little fellow who can’t seem to catch a break, but he wakes in the morning with a can-do attitude, declaring “Today is a new day!” with great enthusiasm. 
I love the memory of Harrison’s borrowed declaration that day.  Recalling the sound of those ideas spilling forth from his tiny mouth and young mind has a way of filling me with new optimism, a dose of Chicken Little enthusiasm, and renewed hope.  And really, today is a new day for our family.  We’ve moved beyond the family building and adjustment phases of parenthood (for now, anyway) and into a more settled period of maintaining our solid family unit, growing in traditions and memories instead of babies and new beds. 
While we still think about the process of building a family through adoption a great deal (and I am fairly convinced that we’re not done yet), our focus has shifted more to the parenting side of the equation.  We now spend a great deal of our time thinking about school systems, diversity, ethics, the effects of racism, and ways in which to raise our children to be good citizens of the earth. 
More personally, my focus has shifted to thinking and writing about what my life looks like as the mother of young children rather than infants and toddlers, and how it might change again once my children are away at school all day instead of at home entertaining me.  As the full-on neediness of my children wanes, my interests are pulling me once again to crafting and arts, to volunteer work, to advocacy for those whose voices have a hard time being heard, and to the environment.  It feels a little like I am rejoining the world after living in the bubble of my children’s babyhood for several (blissful, challenging, fun-filled, thoroughly enjoyed) years.
Harrison and Emma are growing and changing, too.  With the introduction of school and social groups, their lives have taken new directions and new meanings, and I will be sure to keep you updated on their funny little quirks and personalities.
We hope you’ll stick around for the next segment of the adventure, where the Sullivan Family News breaks forth into a new day. 

Race and Adoption

The Anti-Racist Parent linked to a great post about racial hierarchy in adoption by Our Life.  You should read it.  We all should. 

They Make Me Smile

I am buckling Harry into his carseat after picking him up from school. It's a sunny, crisp day, and a streak of sunlight glares into my eyes as I reach for his seatbelt. He puts his hand on my cheek and says "Stop a minute. I love your beautiful eyes, Mommy.  I like the brown in them.”  He pats my cheek and releases me, goes back to being the stinker he is so good at being at age three, and I am left in the wake of his wonderfulness.
We are cuddling on the couch, Emma and Mom both in need of a good, long nap.  She puts her little hand on my chest and pats me, saying “You good girl, Mommy.  You good girl.”
Emma loves pizza.  Her favorite kind?  “Peppa.  Whoa-knee.”  That’s two words.
Harrison gathers his comfy kit after school: the pillow from his bed, a soft fuzzy blanket, and an assortment of stuffed animals, anywhere between 2 and 12 of them.  He gets cozy, looks at me across the room with sleepy eyes, and tells me about his gym class with Ms. Sarah.  “She’s Ms. Sarah, just like you, Mommy!  Only she’s not you, and she doesn’t look like you, and she doesn’t sound like you, and she’s not you, right?  But she’s nice.  We played a turkey game today.  She put those things on the floor….what are they called?  Um, bean bags.  Yes, that’s it.  The bean bags were turkey food.  They were all over the floor and we had to pick them up.”  I ask him if they were pretending to be turkeys and he says: “No, Mom, you’re the turkey.”  And then he fell asleep.
Emma is talking more and more these days and her independence streak continues to amaze us.  She insists on getting herself dressed every day and lately has even wanted to pick out her own outfits.  Today I tried to put a certain pair of pants on her, which she wrinkled her nose at and said “NO, Mama!  Pants not pretty.  These pants pretty.”  And so she wore the other pants, which are, in fact, much prettier than the pair I had picked out. 
I was sick with an earache yesterday and we went to the grocery store pharmacy to get my prescription filled.  Harry came to sit with me while I waited and he found a magazine on the table next to his seat.  “Here, Mom.  A Ladies’ magazine.  Maybe you’d like to read it to keep yourself busy while we wait.  It might be awhile.”  Sometimes I have to remind myself that he’s only three.

Happy Birthday, Frances

My grandmother would have been 88 today.  This is the first time December 5th has passed in my lifetime without her and I find myself missing her awfully lately.  A thousand times a day I think of something to ask her: where did she get those great twirly chairs, which are now in my loft, that Beth and I used to spin ourselves sick on in her living room?  What does she think of the new president elect?  What lessons from the Great Depression, which encompassed her childhood, are the most important to remember and bring back now that we’re possibly heading into that sort of economic climate again?  What was her very favorite Christmas cookie?  What were the holidays like for her as a child?  How did she ever manage to raise five daughters and still look both elegant and put together in every photograph I have seen of her?  If she could have lived anywhere in the world where would she live?  How do I make braided rugs?  Where does one buy corn toasties?  I start for the phone a few times a week with her phone number rolling through my head, my fingers just about to graze the receiver when I realize that I cannot call her anymore.  I regret, so deeply, all of the times I thought to call her, but didn’t, when I still could have.
Despite this ache of missing her, I sometimes get the strangest sense that she is here, that if I could catch the light at a certain angle I would be able to see her sitting at my table sipping cup of hot black coffee, and if I close my eyes I can hear her laugh as clearly as if she really were right here.  With all that we do not know about death, it seems perfectly plausible to me that a woman known for her stubbornness in life would find a way for her energy to stick around those she loved in death, if that was what she wanted.  Maybe that isn’t the case, but the thought that it could possibly be brings me great comfort in her physical absence.  I hope, wherever her spirit has gone, that she can feel the love I have for her, today and every day.  If she could read this she would give me that certain look, both pleased and embarrassed, and she would say “Oh, Sara” in a tone that belied both her love and her tendency to reprimand us when we were being good by doing something nice for her.  I miss that, so much.

Confessions

I haven't made anything in awhile. Oh, I knitted a bit and sewed some, but nothing that came even close to completion. Our household descended into sickness again, this time the women took the toll. Emma had pink eye, which is more of a nuisance than anything but does require one to become a bit of a germ-o-phobe, and I had a raging ear infection that had me up all night crying for my mommy...literally. Poor Brendan lugged me off to the doctor yesterday and I was promptly prescribed a round of antibiotics and given orders to increase my fluid intake by...let's just say a lot. Apparently copious amounts of coffee and tea don't count? The antibiotics began their magic around 3am this morning and the crashing pain in my ears finally subsided so that I could get some much-needed sleep. The worst of the pain could have been avoided if I had listened to my loving husband and my body a few days earlier and lugged myself to the doctor the first day I noticed that my glands were swollen and it hurt to yawn. But no, I am stubborn and silly and not very good at taking care of myself when I really need to. I'll work on that. I also have to confess that a lot of my time lately has been spent playing with new wallets, guitars, HEXBUGs, and more, which have been arriving at our mailbox for the past two weeks so that I can review them for our friend, Tony's, website: http://www.blogger.com/www.qwowi.com Come on over and see what we're up to...we're having a blast! Today I will be spending the afternoon watching puffy little snowflakes fall outside our windows while we make cookies for a swap party tomorrow and when the kids go down for their nap I am going to finish sewing the baby carrier I started for a friend of a friend. It will be late for her baby shower, but I am hoping it will arrive before the baby. All of this to say that I was crazy, or at least delusional, to think that I would be able to make a complete project every day at this time of year when my life already has a large list of "must-do"s. I'll post when I do complete something, but I think I'll hold off on the every day idea until a more sane, less ill time of year.

Today I Made This Smock

(Pattern from Bend The Rules Sewing)

I got up early to let the dogs out and the house was so calm and quiet that I was tempted, for once, to stay up instead of crawling back beneath the warm blankets to eek out a few more moments of sleep.  I made my way to my sewing room, found this pattern, and started sewing.  The daughter awoke and found me working on her surprise; she remained to keep me company, singing songs and clapping whenever I finished a section of bias tape.  Her only request after a day of wearing her new smock?  That I add a pocket or two for her pennies.  I think I can manage that.

You may have noticed that I skipped both the Thanksgiving and Black Friday posts.  I wasn’t camping out in a long line to buy a plasma screen t.v., but I was hanging out with family and friends…I suppose you could say we spent those two days making memories.  Pictorial evidence:

 

I hope you and yours had a lovely holiday, too. 

Today I Made This Problem Solver

I have been meaning to make this Problem Solver for months now.  We have a mudroom that was originally intended to be an "outdoor space"; it was changed to an indoor space but something got lost in translation with our builder and we ended up with a very chilly mudroom with interior finish.  To help keep our house as warm as possible while keeping our heating bills at a minimum we added this not-so-lovely but very functional accordion door at the intersection of mudroom and kitchen.  The door stops the draft, but it has a bad habit of sproinging open when I am trying to bring in groceries, corral kids and dogs out to the car, or hang up the hundred coats that always gather near the front door.  The Problem Solver is a bracelet for my accordion door; a simply hook and loop tape attachment makes it easy to lock the door out of my way when I need to, and stays put in the crack between door and wall when not in use.

Ahhh.  Something to check off my To-Do List! 

Today I Made This Owl

I realize I am coming in a little under the wire with this first post, but today didn’t go exactly as planned.  Let’s just say the first project, a turtle, had to go back to the pond.

Make Something Every Day...I Dare You

Nothing makes me feel more satisfied or accomplished than making something with a few materials and my own two hands. I love sitting at my sewing table for an hour or two and walking away with a finished bag, pillow, or baby dress. Sitting in a comfortable chair with a warm cup of tea and my knitting in the evening helps my mind find peace; the simple act of working stitches into rows, rows into a section, and sections into a sweater feels like a natural progression toward something good and lasting. Making toys for Harrison and Emma, even when those toys are simple and short lived, helps me feel connected to their learning and play at the most basic of levels.

Making things feels good. It boosts my creativity, jump-starts my brain, and gives me a sense of accomplishment in my day that I rarely get in my other tasks. That is why, for the next month, I am going to make something every day, and I invite you to join me. From November 25 through December 24 I will make something every day and post about it here. I'll keep the rules simple:

• The item must be created that day – no posting old items because I’m short of time. 
• Made items can be as simple as a sketch or as complex as I can manage in one day.
• Knitting counts, but if I am working on a big project I will commit to finishing a large section in one day…one row seems a little lame.
• Alterations, both aesthetic and purposeful, on an existing piece can count.  For example, I have a few clothing pieces that need alterations before I can wear them: pants in need of a hem, shirts need darts, etc.
• Gifts for the holidays count…so if you happen to be my mom or sister or friend, don’t be sad if you open something you’ve already seen; obviously I won’t post the name of the person I am giving the item to.  You’ve been forewarned!
• Money does not have to be a limiting factor, for me or for you!  Get really creative and see what you can make without buying anything at all.
• Do it every day, no excuses. 
• Posts will be titled “Today I Made This”

In these worrisome economic times, the ability to take the wisp of an idea from the point of  inspiration and build it into a tangible body of work is priceless.  Challenge yourself and see how capable you really are; I bet you’ll be amazed at what your own two hands can do. 

November’s Quiet

We’ve been sick.  I seriously had no idea how often we would be sick once our children began their school years, but the answer seems to be summed up neatly in one word: constantly.  Fortunately the illnesses are of the annoying variety rather than being incapacitating.  We sniffle and sneeze and whine and wheeze our way through each week and just when we begin to feel better, perhaps a day or weekend goes by before we succumb once again to an illness.  I am fairly certain the manufacturer’s of Puffs Plus will not need any help from the bailout; we are keeping them well profited.

There is a good side to all of this sickness in that it forces us to slow down.  Our non-school weekdays are spent on the sofa next to the cheerfully burning woodstove with stacks of books on the table before us and quilts tucked cozily around our legs.  My knitting is never far from my hands, and the tea kettle (its whistle broken, sadly) is nearly constantly making a fresh pot of boiled water for our tea and cocoa.  My fire building skills have vastly improved over the last few weeks and I am now proud to state that I can successfully begin a long lasting fire without filling the house with smoke…most days, anyway.

With the leaves now gone from the trees the bright light of winter has begun to fill our home on sunny days.  The patches of sunlight work their way around the house as the hours tick by and we shift our seating arrangements accordingly, with Charlotte (our beagle) being the member most concerned with catching this solar warmth.  The world outside of our windows is looking more wintry with each passing day, but in the tiny little garden beneath our chimney my clematis has one brave bud still basking in the late-autumn sun.  The rest of the plant’s leaves have been caught by the frost and the other blossoms have long since faded, but this one bloom refuses to die back.  Nature, even at the end of it’s season, contains the audacity and willfulness of life.  Our November days are are warm and quiet, and we savor them knowing that soon the holiday season will be upon us with all of its chill and cheer, followed by the deep freeze of the early year.  It will be a long time before new leaves and buds make their appearance on the clematis, so today I am thankful that just one blossom has held out its neck to reach for the sun. 

What She Said

“One of the tricks is to ALLOW a child to be bored; NOT to fill up every minute with options and extracurriculars; not to allow electronics to be clicked on in a moment of down time. The boredom forces invention; the invention gives a clue as to what deeply amuses a child.”-Mellisa Fay Greene

Dear Harrison,

You are tired.  You play harder than most kids I know, you go to school where learning new things requires an intensity of concentration that takes enormous amounts of energy to maintain, and your body and mind are growing up fast; all of these things together wear you out to the point that you are on the verge of tears nearly every day by the hour of five o'clock.  By the end of each day you have the tendency to become a puddle, to push boundaries and the limits of our patience until we, too, feel like puddles.  At those moments, the moments in which I want to throw up my hands and call uncle as I make a mad dash for the door, I find myself hoping that you will have a son of your own one day.  And you might think that is a hateful thing to write, but I don't wish a son upon you in vengeance, rather I wish a son upon you so that you, too, will know the depths of love that I know, the love that keeps me from running out the door.  The love that makes me hug you and hold you close rather than keeping you in a constant time out.  The love that makes me secretly giggle when you try, yet again, some thing that I have told you not to do no fewer than a million times. 
We've been doing better this week, you and I.  I had long since given up all hope of naps for you because as you got older you just seemed to grow out of them and I grew weary of returning you to your bed twenty times an afternoon.  It was exhausting and I will admit defeat; I simply gave up.  But then a funny thing happened.  I snuggled you close on the couch earlier this week, tucked a blanket around your shoulders to ward off any chill, and thought to myself that in the absence of a nap we could at least enjoy a quiet time together.  I turned on some boring show about politics and you laid your head on my arm until, quite suddenly and soundlessly, you were asleep.  Your little body sagged in relief as your slumber replenished the depleted stores of energy in your cells.  Your face relaxed, you started to snore, and I realized that in all of the time we spent arguing about naps I was getting it wrong.  Instead of putting you away in your room, alone, to sleep off your naughtiness and bad moods, I should have held you close for just a little while because what you needed, more than sleep, was me.  You needed to know that, in spite of all of the changes in your little life these days, I am going to remain a constant.  I failed you, in a way, when I didn't recognize what you needed and I am so sorry, my little man.  But now I know. 
We've kept up the couch cuddle time for a few days now and each afternoon as I tuck the blanket around your shoulders you look at me and smile; it is not the triumphant smile of one who has won a battle, but the contented smile of one who has finally gotten exactly what they needed.  And me?  I found out that I am getting exactly what I needed to: time with you to hold you close, to remember that you are still a very little boy.  Time to slow down and relax, to watch my son sleep.  I have also gotten the gift of a son who is not a puddle at five o'clock any longer; instead you are ready to help me make dinner, ready to clean up the mess of our day, and ready to play very kindly and patiently with Emma.  We are each changed by the stillness of one hour; we are replenished.
Maybe one day you will have a son, and that son will go to school for the first time and he won't take a nap afterward, and the busy days of young boyhood will wear him out to the point that you won't quite know what to do with him.  If that day comes I will let you read this so you'll know how clueless I was some days.  Hopefully you, too, will have the opportunity to learn that slowing down long enough to hold him and love him is the answer to a great many disputes and aggravations.  I do so hope you'll have a son someday.
Love, Mom

A Visit To Hick's

Apple season has descended upon Upstate NY along with the fall foliage that is almost at its peak.  We spent a crisp Sunday morning picking apples at Hick's yesterday.
 
Old apple trees with crooked bent branches surround the barn and house and hundreds of happy bees buzzed around our heads as we tried to scarf down our apple cider doughnuts.

The kids sipped from a cup of steaming apple cider, while I insisted on spending three dollars on maple sugar cotton candy.  The cider? Always a winner.  The cotton candy?  The best I have ever had, and I do consider myself a bit of a cotton candy connoisseur. 

After our snack at the barn we made our way to the orchard, where the apples were so ripe they were falling off the trees. 

The apple coverage on the ground made walking difficult for small feet, so Grandma and Grandpa pitched in to help carry Harrison and Emma and assist in their picking efforts.


I picked some, too!

I was feeling a little stiff and sore during the apple picking because I had run my first 5K the day before, hence the wincing look on my face.

Brendan kept track of our bags and reached the reddest apples high up in the trees that were out of reach for the rest of us shorties.  He also rescued Harry for the (apparently) horrifying apple studded ground and wet grass. 

We tried to get a decent picture of the kids together, but the minute the camera was obviously pointed at them they became jumping beans and would not hold still. 

We took some group shots,
  
and a few of us posed by the car.

The orchard was beautiful, the apples were outrageously expensive but delicious, and a good time was had by all.  Even me, despite being so sore that I was, admittedly, a little grumpy. 

Eyes Wide Open

We laid side by side on his bed.  I was rubbing his belly and trying to coax his wound-up little body to sleep for a much needed nap and he was telling me snippets and tales from his day at preschool. 
I cherish these quiet moment when he tells me things that pop into his head from his day.  When asked directly about school he offers little, but if I try to lull him to sleep the details of his two and a half hour adventure trickle out of his mouth and into my waiting ears.  I happily absorb his words, hold them to myself, and wonder at the world he has entered that does not include us.  At times I think he likes having something apart from us, something that is entirely his, that we hold no ownership of.  His burgeoning independence is both beautiful and heartbreaking.  I want so badly at times to keep him small forever, but I also love, more than anything, watching him blossom and grow.
I am brushing my fingers through his hair now and I gently request that he close his eyes and go to sleep.  "I can't close them, Mom," he says, "I have to keep my eyes open wide so I can see everything."   
He has grown so suddenly these past months.  Gone are all traces of baby; they have been replaced by long limbs and strong muscles.  Fingers that were once chubby with baby fat now have the ability to button, zipper, and snap, and are close to being able to tie shoes.  He wants to know everything, to try everything, to see everything.  He is at the wonderful age where children are ready to explore the possibility of the world beyond their family and yard, yet they want so badly to know that we still have their backs, we will still scoop them up and carry them down the stairs, and kiss away their hurts, and tell them endless bedtime stories until the possibility of a monster lurking beneath the bed is game rather than a nightmare.   
Finally, his words are a murmur instead of a torrent and his fingers relax.  His eyes flutter closed and he breathes in the even rhythm of deep sleep.  I watch his face until I am sure that he is off in a land of dreams and then I can see it: the baby that lurks within the boy.  There are the long eyelashes that brush his round baby cheeks, and there is the pouting little mouth that has always smiled, ever-so-slightly, while he dreams.  I check his hands and there, too, I find the dimples that mark his knuckles.  I feel silly to be relieved that these marks are still there, for surely he is growing up well and I am absolutely proud of the person he is.  I just wish, sometimes, that life came equipped with a pause button.

Birthday Girl Pictures

 

 

 

 

happy Birthday, Emma.  We love you!