Sleeping beauties

I realized this had been sitting around in my drafts folder for a while, so I've decided to post. This was before the great bunk bed purchase of 2010, but after Baby O was born. March maybe?

I captured these images when I checked on them right before I went to sleep.

My aunt always put new makeup on right before she went to bed. When I was about 5 I asked her why she did that she told me that if I die at night the undertaker will know what I'm supposed to really look like.

In some ways my daughter takes after her -- red curly hair, fiery personality. In her own right E-minion loves the color pink, purple and jewelry. If something were to happen, she'd want everyone to know that she's a princess -- or was. Now she's really into Darth Vader.






I knit these red sleeping socks for I-minion at his request. He soon discovered they didn't stay on his feet really well, but made excellent lobster claws, and were perfect for keeping his hands warm at night.

A confession, of sorts

I’m nearly sloth like about maintaining this blog. So folks don’t think it’s gone totally dormant, a post!

I am totally a wannabe domestic goddess. It may not look like it, but I’ve been told I’m a pretty good actress. My kitchen floor is sticky. Dust bunnies roam the house in search of vigilante justice. Tori the cat lives in fear. J describes the living room as filled with “rubble.” And Mount Laundry? Only the bravest souls attempt to conquer it.

Since I work full time, have three kids, two dogs, a cat and a husband I don’t want to (and obviously) don’t spend my days tending the house. I felt like I was losing a battle in the house, not spending the type of time I wanted with the kids or J. I certainly felt guilty when I would to take some “me” time.

I count coup on days I toss something in the crock pot or remember to put in a load of laundry in the washer in the morning and put it in the dryer in the evening. More than once I’ve opened the lid and realized there’s a load of fragrant towels waiting for the dryer.

I also have things I want to do in life – knit, spin, play in the garden and help my kids explore the world.

Where we live it is expectation that the mothers take on the bulk of child rearing, all or nearly all of the cooking and the vast majority of housekeeping. Working moms I know say “I’d love you to come over for lunch, but the house is such a mess.” In reality, they’re busy, they do the dishes after supper and they yell to have the kids pick up the living room. When they collapse at the end of the day they are too tired to mess with the stray Legos on the carpet or the cat fur on the back of the couch. They are like me.

At our Mount Olympus, J does half (at least) of the cooking and cleaning around the house. He’s just as integral to the family routine and caring for the kids (Most nights they’d rather have dad do baths).

We were both tired of keeping up with the illusion. No more smoke and mirrors at our Mt. Olympus. Something had to give.

I’m admitting it here, so to not insult mothers out there trying to work, raise a family and keep the health department from condemning the house.

We hired a cleaning lady.

I’ll call her Alice, in honor of Alice from the Brady Bunch. I’m sure Alice is all that kept Mrs. Brady from ringing the neck of her six wonderful and charming children/step children every time she needed to change the bedding – eight beds!

My Alice comes every two weeks. She sweeps, mops, vacuums, dusts, changes the sheets on the beds, cleans the bathroom, does a few loads of laundry, cleans my fridge out and any other stuff she sees that needs to be done. She’s been to our house three times.

I admit I actually jumped for joy and “squee-d” when I went upstairs the first time and saw the reflection of my kids playing in their room on their door – it was that clean and sparkly. My 50+ year old linoleum in my kitchen was so reflective. Alice she even scraped off the Mickey Mouse sticker that was adhered to the floor, it blended in so well that I left it. It was a great way to distract the kids when I was cooking "Quick! Find Mickey!" See, again with the faking.

Most weeks she spends nearly eight hours at my house and it works out to about $75 a time. On the evening she comes, I pause, take a deep breath and realize I’ve spent that kind of money before and not received that type of enjoyment or peace of mind.

The kids love it when Alice comes because she brings a baked treat of some kind – as she says, most husbands think that the wives should be able to keep up with the house, the wives think they need help. The fastest way to when the men over is by leaving a home-baked treat each time.

We are not a family that cleans before the cleaning lady comes. But I am ruthless about making sure things are put away where they belong. I’ve learned there is a distinct difference between “cleaning” and “de-cluttering.”

Surprisingly, J – one of the biggest culprits – and the kids are getting used to making sure if you get it out, it gets put back where it came from. Each time before Alice comes there is less and less that I feel that needs to be done. Thus, the house remains less cluttered, cleaner and my stress levels are reduced.

What’s the best part? I don’t feel like I have to spend Saturday cleaning, squeezing in something fun with the kids and then having to stay up late to do spend time with J or do something by myself. Now the house is clean, we can do fun stuff in the morning and when the kids nap, I do what I want guilt free.

Spring Fever

Buried under all of that is my garden. This photo was taken on Jan. 30 and the drifts through my garden were about 4-5 feet tall. Today, April 1, they are about 2 feet tall through only a small portion.

This winter has been long, hard and down right miserable. I am so anxious to get out and feel the dirt under my fingers and to see things growing once again. The kids are getting anxious to work in the garden, too. This year I am anticipating J taking a more active role in the gardening process. He never grew up around a veggie garden, and didn't know what to expect. This year he does. He's also excited about about growing fresh food for the family this year, too.

We are planning to improve the garden this year in the following ways:

• Better bunny proofing. We've had chicken wire wrapped around hog panels (that keep the deer out) and relied on Jasmine with bunny patrol. This year we're going to build wood frames with the chicken wire stapled to it so we can customize the size of the garden and make it safer. This is based on the plan Uncle Dan has implemented in his garden. As far as the deer are concerned, we're going to rely on the predators (aka Rocky and Jasmine) to keep them out. We don't normally see the deer near the house.
• Garden contents: We are planning on planting more green beans and peppers. I did not realize how much my children loved fresh green beans and green peppers. Whenever I make fajitas I have to secretly cut the peppers up so the kids don't snarf them as I'm preparing to cook. I want to plant potatoes and onions but local lore says to plant them on Good Friday (which is tomorrow). There is still snow where I intend to plant them, and who knows if the ground is still frozen.
• Return on the Killer Tomatoes: We'll be planting more tomatoes this year, too. Romas, cherry or grape tomatoes and maybe one or two plants of slicing tomatoes. I'm not a big fan of tomatoes, but I like little ones to pop in my mouth or include in salads. I also intend on making tomato sauce and salsa with the remains.
• Composting: It is true Iowa has amazing soil. My first garden we tilled up a chunk of the yard and I plopped my seeds and tomato and pepper plants in the ground and watched them grow. This year I intend to make a more concerted effort to improve the soil, and create good soil for growing things. As an added bonus, I'm all about recycling and minimizing our footprint on the earth.

Bring on the green things, I'm anxious to start gardening.

Mission (almost) Impossible

My friend Victoria challenged me to this way back in June, and I'm just getting to it now -- that's what makes it a nearly impossible task. Go to your sixth photo folder and find your sixth photo in the folder and write about it.

Here is mine:


This was taken shortly after Christmas in 2006, the kids were just over a year and were truly interested in controlling their world. At 13 months there isn't much you can control, but they found out that they could turn on and off the lamps in the living room and proceeded to do it over and over and over again.

Life was just getting easier at our house. After the minions were born, life was a blur of feedings, diaper changes and eventually giggles and belly laughs from them. Honestly, it was at about this time that I really started to enjoy being a parent. I could interact with them, they were starting to talk -- or at least make their opinions known. Life was getting easier because they could start to feed themselves. Each new phase while at first is a challenge, has made life as the parent of twins easier.

When they started walking we had to keep a close eye so they didn't wander away, but soon we didn't have to carry them any more. Next it was potty training. They've turned from blobs of baby to intelligent and independent children.

These little guys are 4 and are amazing. They know instinctively how to piss off the other one but in the next breath they are willing to fight to the death to protect the other one.

Now the exciting thing isn't turning the light on and off, but "reading" their favorite books to Baby O. He lays on the floor kicking and cooing. The minions sit next to him reciting their favorite books -- E-minion's prefers the Lorax and I-minion likes Richard Scary's Big Story Book. When they're done, E-minion will kiss his forehead and I-minion will give him an Eskimo kiss and tell him good night.


I'm tagging
Lazy Goddess
Mary @theyellowdoor

Justified hiatus

The last little while I've been a bit busy.




Baby O, officially known as Owen James arrived at 8:43 a.m. Monday, Feb. 1 and he weighed 8 pounds 6 ounces and was 21 inches long. The "little" guy was two weeks early but very, very healthy.



From the beginning I have been convinced he takes after his father. While in labor he kept sneaking away from the Doppler they were using to monitor his heart rate. At one point in the night I'm sure that he put on his tinfoil hat and said "Screw this, I'm going into hiding."

When went in for the cesarean section, he had disengaged himself from my pelvis and had floated to the top -- attempting to get away.

The only instance we've had of the minions disliking their brother came after a no-nap day and E-minion told me that she wanted to send him back. I-minion likes to give him Eskimo kisses. (For the interested folks, that's Grandma K ).


The first two weeks the kids always commented on the fact his eyes were open. It took me another week to realize the reason why they were so interested was because the only other babies they'd been around were baby kittens, who don't open their eyes for a couple weeks.


Hello Handsome, welcome to the world!

Hot off the needles

With the snow and advancing pregnancy, I haven't spent a lot of time outside or otherwise living life in the fast lane. What I have been doing is knitting.

Pattern:Zip-up-the-back hoodie (ravelry link to pattern)
Yarn: Valley Yarns Superwash in green and yellow
Model: Baby Ryan -- I-minions baby that Gramma Caela made for him. This baby wears a 0-3 sleeper -- he's just not as thick as a regular baby.
Notes: This is for Baby O. I was inspired to find this sweater after my doctor mentioned that someone knit one for her oldest when he was a baby, All of her kids used it and it was very useful because you could put it on the kid while in the car seat.

This would be a quick knit, if I decided to do it the simple way. Instead of just one color or simple stripes, I decided the sleeves should be one color and the body a different one. I think at one point I had five or six balls of yarn attached to this sweater. It was a mess to keep straight, but the finished project was worth it.

The zipper took a bit to find one that would work and I sewed it in by hand. Not quite as speedy as doing it with the machine, but worked just as well.



Pattern: Saartjes-bootees (ravelry link) for Baby O
Yarn: Valley Yarns Superwash in green and yellow. This was some of the leftover from the zip up the back hoodie I made for the baby earlier. The little fish buttons were the only ones I could find at Hobby Lobby in Sioux Falls, SD, that weren't obviously boy or girl buttons and yet still geared for kids.

Notes: They knit up quickly. I'm not sure when they'll fit the baby, but at some point in the first few months they will likely fit.

If I were to make this again, and I probably would. I would extend the number of stitches that you cast on to make the straps (trust me it will make sense when you look at the pattern) and then make a buttonhole with a YO and a K2tog in one of the middle rows.


Pattern: Basic Socks, no real pattern
Yarn: Wool Ease worsted -- a wool/acrylic blend and that means they are machine washable.
Notes: These were for I-minion. He had been requesting red sleeping socks for a long time. They are just a basic ribbed sock. They didn't take long to knit up, and he likes to wear them and slide around the house.


Pattern: The Squidge Cloth
Yarn: Sugar N' Cream Solids and Ombres -- two skeins. Although I had to snag some left over purple cotton to finish the one.
Notes: E-minion is a big girl. To celebrate that I made for her two washcloths, and towels with velcro so she could wrap them around herself and make them stay up, and found two pink hair wraps to soak up the water after bath time.



There are other things on the needles and have not photographed. They include a sweater that still needs one short sleeve, a pair of top secret socks , a stole and The Shawl of Doom. I finished a pair of socks that I started in the summer, but neglected to photograph them before I sent them home with Gramma Caela.

Is winter over yet?

It's been a long winter here on my Mount Olympus. We've gotten smacked by major snow storms every two weeks for at least the last six weeks -- that means we've had a lot of snow, and blowing snow. It also means that if and when the sun shines it's blinding.

Most of these images were taken Christmas Day -- when one of the biggest snow storms hit. It prompted the cancellation of all Christmas services at area churches for four days. We really needed Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer to save Christmas. But, I hear he was too busy helping Santa.

Since these photos were taken we've had additional snow, freezing rain. It's like a glacier out there and the piles are just taller.

E-minion climbing into the snow pack from the driveway -- it was about as tall as she is.


The barn. Our last snow storm, on Jan.25, nearly the entire roof on the south side of the barn fell because of the weight of the snow and 55 mph winds we had.

And finally, Ms. Jasmine swimming her way through the yard. The freezing rain created a nice crust on the snow so she can run and jump all on top of the snow that's about 2 1/2 feet deep. It also means that she doesn't have to stay in the areas where J has plowed out.

Projectile Vomit

Three more sleeps has become my mantra over the last 24 hours or so. J will return from China late Wednesday night.

I had two fears while he was gone. My No. 1 concern was a big snow storm would hit and I'd have to plow out the yard. My second concern was that the kids would get sick. It happened.

We were 35 miles from home after spending the weekend at Gramma Caela's when Edie started complaining her tummy hurt. Then she proceeded to projectile vomit throughout the entire car.

We stopped and I mopped it up best I could, changed her clothes and we got on the road again. I think I got the car cleaned out (although I fear opening the door to see if the smell is gone). I think her seat is clean, too. I think this afternoon I'll reinstall her car seat.

So far, no barf today. I think she's over it, and will be able to go to day care tomorrow and I can go back to work.

Precious Gem

When I bought my spinning wheel earlier this year from a fiber friend who discovered she didn't really like spinning, I volunteered to spin her some roving she purchased with intentions of spinning.

I recently got the guts enough to declare I was decent enough in spinning to tackle making yarn for someone else. Let me tell you a plastic bag identifying it as a 1/2 pound garnet, and nothing else. I took to spinning it.

I haven't been spinning long, but I realize this spun like butter. Nice long fibers, soft and a beautiful color. For some reason, it also has a wonderful cinnamon smell, too.

I finished spinning it a week ago Friday, and began plying Saturday evening while I placated the kids with a movie. I spun two bobbins, but obviously didn't get an even amount on both. I plied what I had, and then attempted to unwind what was left on two into a center pull ball so I could ply from that -- something I've managed to do in the past. Apparently it wasn't meant to be.

I created, what I think, was muppet fur [which I regrettably did not take a picture of] It was a nightmare. At least I did end up with a fair amount of yarn.




Details:
Fiber: Wool -- something with a long staple length and quite soft
WPI: 13 or so. That makes it slightly finer than a worsted weight wool
Yards: 330 yards.

I told Ellen that I needed to know what it was and where she got it, so I can procure some for my own use, as it was a dream to spin.

A Goddess Improvises

For the last several days I-minion has been begging me to make "Oatmeal Cookies." I finally relented on Sunday and we mixed a batch of Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies courtesy of Grandma Caela.

This is the only chocolate chip cookie recipe my mother ever made when I was growing up. I must clarify, that by the time I could make my way around the kitchen my mother declared "Making pie is against her religion." and I'm pretty sure that making cookies would also nominate her as heretic of the year.



If you notice the chips in these cookies are not quite "chocolate" in color. You see, this wannabe domestic goddess got everything mixed up before she realized there were NO chocolate chips in her house. This shocked me, as I usually have a stockpile of chips of the chocolate variety in my cupboard. I'd picked up a package of vanilla chips for a recipe I had intended to try out. For the record -- the cookies are quite tasty with vanilla chips.

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies
1 1/2 cups sifted flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1 cup shortening
3/4 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp hot water
1 tsp vanilla
1 12oz package of chocolate chips
2 cups oatmeal

Cream sugar and shortening well. Add eggs and mix. Combine baking soda and hot water and add to mixture. Mix in remaining ingredients, the chocolate chips last. Drop by spoonfuls on cookie sheet. Bake at 375 degrees until brown. In my oven it was about 13 minutes. Let the cookies cool, and store in a air-tight container.

If you are like this wannabe domestic goddess, you'll use a fancy cookie jar. In my house, you can see it is a pretty sweet container.



Under typical baking situations at our house, I mix the cookies -- often with help from the minions. Then J actually bakes the buggers. It's part of our teamwork. We both like cookies. I like to mix them up, but hate baking. He hates mixing but enjoys baking. This time around the kids and I mixed cookies, and I ended up baking them while they went outside and built a fence out of posts they discovered behind the chicken coop.

Self Portrait

Up until recently I used our small Canon point and shoot camera for my photographic needs. I have a old-school film SLR that was rarely used. Since my bills aren't paid by my picture taking skills, I never upgraded to a digital version of my film camera. Until now.

For those interested (and for those not, just scroll down) it is a Canon XSi with an 18-50 mm f2.8 lens. I think I've found a new love.

May I present a rare self portrait I took with the new camera.

The Far East

From now until Thanksgiving the minions and I are holding the fort down while my husband is exploring the Far East. Well, maybe not the entire country, but the Eastern coast and Shanghai area. J's job is one where he works with engineers and suppliers who are based in China. He is on his annual trip across the Pacific.

We've spent the previous couple weeks getting the minions ready for the trip. We've made paper chains to count the number of sleeps until Dad comes home (13 as of today, Friday, Nov. 13). The kids cut and taped/glued them together. When I-minion finished his chain he commented on its length. "This is really long, that means Dad is going to be gone a long time." He started to cry. "There is water coming out of my eyes and I can't stop it."






The kids have been asking a lot of questions about China and where it is in relationship to where we live. After lunch on Sunday J broke out my globe circa 1918 (a antique store find more than a decade ago). Normally it sits on my cabinet in my dining room looking scholarly.

J pointed out where we live, and how far away China is and pointed out some of the different cities they'll be visiting.

Last time J was in China the kids were just about ready to turn 2. This time they know what's going on. Multiple times a day I hear: "I'm sad because my dad is gone" or "I miss daddy."

We'll be talking to J via skype a couple times. The kids' stuffed dogs that look like their real dogs are with him in China. I expect checking e-mail regularly with the kids so they can see what type of adventures the puppies have.

This is of course difficult for me, too. J and I are partners in everything in life. J and I split cooking, cleaning and parental duties. I'll be honest when I say it is intimidating to be doing this alone right now. It's also unusual for me to take over some of the duties that J just normally handles -- like loading and unloading the dishwasher and putting the dogs in the kennel in the morning.

I was raised by Muppets

I learned about life by watching Sesame Street. So many life lessons were learned on the street: Making friends, compromising, and counting in Spanish. Gordon was the first black man I'd ever encountered. Kermit the roving reporter inspired me to become a journalist.

We lived in the country. After my brother hopped on the bus, I would eat breakfast and Mom and I would head outside to do chores or other tasks of farm life. But mostly, I played with the sheep and chased the cats.

By 11:30 we'd be back inside and my mother would let me turn on the television. South Dakota Public Television was one of three channels that came in clearly. The first notes of the theme and seeing the kids and Big Bird walking through the grass would send me running to my mother urging her to start the water for macaroni and cheese.

As the water boiled and the noodles cooked I watched Kermit, Grover, Oscar and Cookie Monster learned about a world that seemed so foreign to a preschooler living in rural western South Dakota. I admit "Monster Piece Theatre" scared me, and I giggled madly when they decided they needed to count all thieves from "Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves."

The life events that happened on Sesame Street seemed to mirror what was happening in my own life. Maria and Louis had Gabby about the same time my little brother was born. Mr. Hooper died shortly before my grandmother did. Seeing how the Muppets coped with life somehow made it OK for me to be worried if my parents would have time for me after the baby was born and to be sad about Grandma Edie dying.

As I've grown up I realized the skits, parodies and events at 123 Sesame Street mirrored pop culture, great literature and world events. Looking back, I think the combination of Sesame Street and my parents' influence played a critical role in developing my love of literature and learning.

I'm now the parent of 3-year-old twins. As cliche as it sounds as much as things change, they stay the same. I still live in the country. It's western Iowa instead of South Dakota. We get four television channels over the air and one of them happens to be Iowa Public Broadcasting. Sesame Street is a big part of my children's lives.

The format has changed a bit. The theme has a hip-hop bend. The Muppets are still there, so are the lessons. Interestingly enough I find the show draws me in much like it did when I was a child. Perhaps not quite to the extent of E-minion and I-minion are. They are exploring their world via the same street I did. Unfortunately the worlds are completely different. I am comforted that the kind words of Maria and the rest of the Muppets (including one of my favorites, Grover) are there to guide my babies as they grow up.

Today marks the premier of the 40th Season of Sesame Street. The Minions and I will be watching at 5:30 p.m., when it airs on IPTV. So in honor of the anniversary I am providing a couple of videos marking some of the best of the best. One old school clip -- Kermit the Frog, roving reporter -- and one that the minions and I both love -- Murray Had a Little Lamb.

More Conversations with now 3-year-old

Cast of Characters:
I-minion, E-minion, Mom and Dad
Setting: At the supper table
[Half way through supper, a new topic of conversation is proposed]

Mom: What do you think about a baby coming to live at our house?
E-minion: [tilts head to the side and ponders for a moment] That's OK. I'm a big girl now. I have a big girl bed. The baby can sleep in my baby bed because I don't need it.
I-minion: [with a very serious look on his face] Mama, That is NOT funny.
Dad: Why?
I-minion: Well, babies cry all the time, and that hurts my ears.
Mom: [to Dad] Well, I guess we'll bring this up later.


Conversation Continued a few weeks later (after I-minion has learned it could be cool becoming a big brother and seeing that babies don't cry ALL the time)

E-minion: We could have a boy baby ...
I-minion: Or, a girl baby, OR [looks directly at our black labrador and thinks no, we won't have a puppy] a black baby.
Dad: Huh?
I-minion: We could have a boy baby, a girl baby or a black baby.
Mom: Oh, I don't think so.

Summer Hibernation

Based on the temperatures, cloudy skiesand the rain drops filtering through the atmosphere, it must mean that summer hibernation is officially over at Portrait of a Wannabe Domestic Goddess.

As good as my intentions are to blog consistently throughout the summer, it just isn't meant to be. This summer has been an unusual one in our little part of Iowa.

Let's name off the big news of the summer:

• My in laws who have claimed western Pennsylvania as home for the last 12 years continued the process of moving to Iowa. A lay off just before Christmas and new job in a neighboring town prompted my father-in-law to move here, live with us for six weeks, before buying a house. It's October now and my brother-in-law is here, and my mother-in-law is in the process of getting the house in PA ready for sale.
• With the excitement of the move and helping get everyone settled the garden was NOT planted this year. Rabbits have moved into the weedy area and have been feasting on the volunteer Marigolds and Dill I planted last year.
• We camped with Kelli and T and their superstar dog Lilly. That had a big impact on the kids as they frequently "go camping" in the yard or upstairs.
• We began discussing with the kids their thoughts on having a baby come live at our house. Thankfully they came to the conclusion that it wouldn't be so bad as there will be a baby arriving in February.
• E-minion and I-minion moved into their big girl and big boy beds without issue. Their former room has become the "baby's room."
• I've been knitting, a little, but more frequently ripping out since projects haven't been going my way.
• I've been cooking some, but not a lot -- as the early pregnancy ickies took hold firmly this time. They've passed and I've got some semblance of energy now.

Since it's fall, I am in the process of making Halloween costumes, preparing for the baby and for my husband to travel to China for work sometime in November.

A Day to Remember

Today is a day to remember. Remember the people who have sacrificed and given their lives to make sure that I, as a woman, can make decisions regarding my life; vote for who I want – without fear of retribution – and to raise my children to know God. That same sacrifice means another mother somewhere else in America can feel secure raising her children to know Allah or Yahweh.

It's on dates like today that I think of my grandpa Nelson. A World War II veteran who served in the Pacific Theater, My father said Grandpa didn't talk about the war until after I was born. Sometimes I'd sit on Grandpa's lap as a little girl when he described what it was like to swim the contents of the trucks from the LST troop transporter to the shore as they hopped from island-to-island. How the intense buzz of mosquitoes drove the soldiers back into the diesel soaked, shark-infested waters. He described how he feared that the "something" he bumped into while swimming to shore might be shark and not the side of beef as he originally thought.

Other times I'd sit next to him. He in his rocking chair with his chipped coffee cup balanced precariously on the wide wooden arm and me on the floor, looking up. Often the percolated brew was forgotten in the midst of the story. When he looked out, he didn't see me. He wasn't sitting in his chair anymore – he was remembering the heat and how uncomfortable he was in the flat-soled combat boots and the constant motion of the sea under him.

He reminisced about the poker game he was playing in the bowels of the transport ship when news came of the Japanese bombers hitting Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. He passionately spoke of the ongoing argument between Army and Navy “brass.” One wanted their ship– one of the few remaining American vessels in the Pacific Ocean – to continue on to it's original destination, the Philippines, or to go to Australia.

I truly regret my grandfather Nelson died when I was an eighth-grader. He had only begun to share his experiences during World War II when he became sick. I listened to the stories, but as a child I didn't pay attention like I should have.

Today, I rocked his great-grandson and namesake in that same rocking chair as I struggled to find the right words to explain the significance of Memorial Day in terms a 3-year-old would understand. I fear I've failed.

His other great-grandfather is a World War II veteran, too. He died nearly 50 years ago and unfortunately, I know very little about him. I assume he served in Europe based on the silver Nazi officers' gun that has been passed on to my husband. The 9 mm holds Nazi emblems and is shrouded in mystery. I do not know where it came from or how he acquired it. It is one of the few items that link generations. In this case, there are no stories to share.

Perhaps part of my responsibilities as a parent is to share the stories I know, answer the questions the best I can and help my children realize that Memorial Day isn't just to remember those veterans who have died. There is a while new crop of veterans – people they know, friends of their uncles – who have given similar sacrifice to protect their rights.

Today on Memorial Day I remember the veterans of my country who have given themselves to make sure that on my 30^th birthday the biggest hardships that I've faced in my life are insignificant compared to the persecution women across the world have faced and continue to confront.

Channeling the older generation

Tonight I cleaned out my closet and had several shirts that were worn out. Instead of just pitching them, I systematically snipped off the buttons. I'm sure someday I'll have the need for 1 inch burgundy buttons or 12 5/8 inch light pink buttons, so that's why I saved them.

My Grandma Edie would cut buttons off, save them for a future sewing project. The garment was placed in the "rag bag" for some future use. While I didn't put my shirt in the rag bag, I couldn't help but feel like I was channeling her in my actions. I did salvage two pairs of jeans for patching. It seems my main parenting task -- aside from reminding the minions that fingers don't go in noses -- is fixing holes in the knees of their pants.

I'm now beginning to think I need to start by own "rag bag." I remember Grandma Edie's rag bag being a magical place. When she'd make clothes for my Barbie she'd pull out the perfect blue damask to make a ball gown for Peaches and Cream Barbie. The magic bag also contained the fake fur coat that she used to make Dewey, my teddy bear. Twenty-six years later, there was still enough fabric remaining in the rag bag -- which my aunt now has -- for my mother to make paw pads for the teddy bears she made for her grand children.

If I create a magic place for my children to explore when I'm working in my craft room, maybe they'll leave the yarn and spinning wheel alone. Now there's a point to ponder.

I made my first major road trip alone with the kids this past weekend. Here's how the trip to Mitchell broke down.

5:10 p.m Left day care. The car is loaded. Everyone went potty and we’re on the road.

5:25 p.m. Stop to get gas in Orange City, about 20 miles from home. No one has to go potty. I go in to pay for gas and wait 15 minutes for the most incompetent cashier EVER to ring up a dude’s donut, lottery ticket and doh, he forgot to add the $20 in gas, but couldn’t figure out how to add the gas to the previous total of $3.28.

5:45 p.m. On the road again, finally.

6:15 p.m. Hit Hawarden, 20 more miles downt he road and turn onto Highway 12 to head south. A chorus of “I have to go potty” erupts from the back seat. I back track, to hit the new Casey’s -- which I know has a public potty and escort the minions to the bathroom.

6:25 p.m. On the road again. I finally give up on trying to listen to some news as I am bombarded with a slew of questions. Namely I explain what a gravel pit is, what an irrigation system is and speculate with I-minion where the train might go and why it isn't on the track for him to see. E-minion is content to watch the fields pass by -- almost on the verge of sleeping, I think.

I cruise through Akron, smugly knowing that I am on my way to Westfield (which is 20 miles from our last stop) where I will cross the Big Sioux River and have the highway automatically turn into the road that will lead me directly to Vermillion -- the midpoint of this adventure.

Alas, I approach the turn, the Iowa DOT has conviently blocked out the sign, that I assume says Vermillion, SD X miles. I have to back track to Akron to find a place to cross the river. I’m thinking horrible thoughts a la Oregon Trail and fording the river so I can cross wherever I want to. But, I don’t think it my little station wagon would do as well as a canastoga wagon and a horsepower of two --especially since the river looks high.

I answer a ton of questions about the bridge being closed for repairs.

I take the detour and head up and down some wonderful bluffs that A) I cannot believe they paved roads here and B) I estimate the slope to be somewhere around 12 percent range. E-minion mentions it makes her tummy feel funny. Thank you South Dakota for you 65 mph speed limits and my lead foot, for giving my daughter her first roller coaster experience.

I get off my detour, and attempt to follow my directions which were way whacked. So I eventually just find a paved road figuring it will either get me to Vermillion or to a sign which will tell me what direction to go to Vermillion.

7:25 p.m. I am on Cherry Street in Vermillion (which happily is Highway 50, for future reference) I call the little brother and we meet at McDonald's. As I finish the conversation E-minion pipes up I have to go potty NOW. I unbuckle her, she looks a little pale.

As we are washing hands, I-minion wanders under the automatic hand dryer, it turns on and scares him. He screeched and jumped enough to almost whack his head on the dryer. We come out and my little brother and his new girlfriend are there.

We eat the standard chicken bites and a couple fries, drink our chocolate milk. I-minion new stories about the 4969 pickup he works on with his dad. E-minion dances around her chair, it’s all good.

We hop in the car, with the little brother and head out. Everything is going well, and all we hit a weather front and the temperature drops from 55 to 42 degrees. The wind picks up and it to rain, hard. In no-man’s land between Yankton and Tyndall I-minion announces he has to go potty.

I try to convince him to wait until we get to a town. It didn’t work. I pull over, unbuckle. He doesn’t like the wind, rain or traffic – it scares him. Frankly, it scared me. It’s a two-lane highway that’s busy.

I-minion get’s his first “pee in the bottle” experience while standing inside the back hatch of my car, while shivering.

After I buckle him up, tuck his favorite blanket around him, he shivers for a bit before he announces he’s not doing that again – it’s too cold.

8:45 p.m. both minions crash.

9 p.m. Mom calls “Where are you?” Not there yet, I respond and remind her of traveling with toddlers is like.

9:30 p.m. We pull into Mitchell, park the car and haul sleeping minions from the car into Grandma’s where they promptly wake up, convinced it’s time for breakfast.

The rest of the weekend went swimmingly. We shopped, getting new summer clothes. We fixed the grill, we napped (and mama ran errands with her mama). Then after nap we went to the farm were we met a baby cow. The minions were worried that he was all by himself and wondered why John didn’t have a calf-sitter.

We saw a batch of newborn kittens. Everyone took a turn driving the tractor. E-minion is a pro, after driving the mower with mom last summer as we picked up sticks. I even got in on the tractor driving. I hope to post more about the weekend soon.

A Vampy Scarf

I had planned The Rosalie Hale Scarf to serve as a substitute in the “mindless” knitting rotation after a particularly frustrating sock. The pattern is a free one from A.M. Downs (link to blog and pattern.) This is based on the scarf that Rosalie Hale wears in the Twilight Movie during the grand entrance of the vampires. It’s beautiful, long and elegant.

(I'll admit it doesn't look as cool, as it does on Rosalie in Twlight, but you can see the details nicely)

The chevron lace scarf has a 14 row pattern repeat. I wanted to knit it – knowing full well that I wouldn’t wear it. But I NEEDED to knit it. I bought yarn, Red Heart Soft (I was in search of Caron Simply Soft, but apparently none of the little stores that carry yarn in my part of rural Iowa have it). I cast on and the first half went well. I had gotten each pattern repeat to take about 15 minutes.

Then I got cocky.

I started the second half of the shawl and the entire process went something like this: Knit 21 rows, rip 14, knit 14, rip 14, knit 21 rows, knit 14 rows, and rip 21 out. I got a bit compulsive, I admit. There is not a mistake in the lace of the project.

Unfortunately, there are several mistakes in the single crochet border around the entire scarf. My mantra is “I hook because I have to.” I don’t like crocheting – there is too much wrist movement. My hands ached by the time I got around the entire scarf. I also was sweating a bit, considering when I was done I had 36 inches remaining.

Pattern: Rosalie Hale’s Scarf
Yarn: Red Heart Soft
Cast On: April 1, 2009
Cast Off: April 11, 2009
Blocked: April 12, 2009
Details: I love this scarf. I loved knitting it, but it isn’t me. I sent it to Knittingtothebottom as part of the Eclipse Swap on Ravelry. It's now making it's home in New Jersey, with potential day-trips to New York City. I think it's found a happy home.

Outlandish Swap 2.0

For my part in the Dragonfly in Amber Outlandish Swap, I made a double pointed needle case and a nostepinne. That's a handy tool for winding center pull balls. I rounded up two skeins of soy silk in a teal color. I also found a natulis shaped needle gauge. Recently I discovered the joys of bent-tipped blunt needles for weaving in ends. I thought I'd share. My Celtic themed item included seven celtic knot stitch markers. To top it off, there was a Swiss dark chocolate.