because sometimes Life Doesn't Get Any Better Than This.
Showing posts with label The Boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Boys. Show all posts
Friday, September 28, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
This Moment {September 21, 2012}
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
via SouleMama
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Danny Martini (an old favorite)
(Lee has started asking about great-grandparents, grandparents, and how everyone fits in the family tree. Ryan shared his testimony at church Sunday, and he talked about his own father's death.
I feel compelled to share this post again.
May our boys grow up knowing they are named after very special men whose impact is felt even though they no longer walk the Earth.)
originally published MARCH 17, 2009 (now that this blog is my new home, I'm re-posting some favorites over here)
Lee was 18 months old yesterday. It was a bittersweet day for me. He's such a joy, and this age is our favorite so far. (I know. I say that every month.)
My father died when I was 18-months old. When I look at Lee, it's impossible to imagine leaving him right now, and because of experience, it's impossible not to imagine leaving him right now. He's just beginning to show us his personality, and we're just beginning to guide him in determining right from wrong. There's so much left to do, learn, see, hear, understand, misunderstand, laugh about, and love. There would be way too many things left undone. There were way too many things left undone.
When I married Ryan, not many people understood my decision to keep my "maiden" name. Not surprising - I've a tendency to make lots of decisions people don't understand. But this one seemed crystal clear, and others' reluctance to accept it didn't make sense to me. And then I realized: it's impossible to understand what it's like to lose a parent at an early age unless it's happened to you. My name is the only direct link to my father that I've got. I have not a single memory of him. Not one. No blog, no family videos, no journal or letters - just pictures and a few items in a shoe box. Family members have memories, but really, by the time I was old enough to hear and understand them, so much time had passed that even their memories had faded. And he was only 21 when he died. No one knows the man he would have become.
It's easy to see that I've inherited traits from my father. He was skinny and had brown, cow-licked hair. He was bowlegged, had acne and crooked teeth. He was passionate, compassionate, and took risks. He loved listening to Jackson Browne. Sometimes he spent money with abandon (okay, not so much this one).
The day I found out I was pregnant with Lee, I told you I immediately smoked my last two cigarettes. What I didn't tell you was that I then went into the den, put on Kenny Loggins' Danny's Song, and sobbed. I cried because I knew how happy our families would be to find out the news, and how happy our fathers would have been to see their first grandchild. It's the first time in a long time, if ever, I've wept for my father.
I think I can speak for my mother when I say our lives have been blessed and we are grateful for what has happened in the years since 1979. My father's death changed us and our relationship. Without my dad Alan, Amanda, Papaw and Mamaw, and entire Newman family my life would not be the same. Nor would Lee's or Ryan's.
I pray Lee has some of my father's traits, too. As I celebrate Lee's 18-month birthday and every birthday hereafter, I pray my father's memory is also celebrated. And soon another Daniel will be joining the party.
I feel compelled to share this post again.
May our boys grow up knowing they are named after very special men whose impact is felt even though they no longer walk the Earth.)
originally published MARCH 17, 2009 (now that this blog is my new home, I'm re-posting some favorites over here)
Lee was 18 months old yesterday. It was a bittersweet day for me. He's such a joy, and this age is our favorite so far. (I know. I say that every month.)
My father died when I was 18-months old. When I look at Lee, it's impossible to imagine leaving him right now, and because of experience, it's impossible not to imagine leaving him right now. He's just beginning to show us his personality, and we're just beginning to guide him in determining right from wrong. There's so much left to do, learn, see, hear, understand, misunderstand, laugh about, and love. There would be way too many things left undone. There were way too many things left undone.
When I married Ryan, not many people understood my decision to keep my "maiden" name. Not surprising - I've a tendency to make lots of decisions people don't understand. But this one seemed crystal clear, and others' reluctance to accept it didn't make sense to me. And then I realized: it's impossible to understand what it's like to lose a parent at an early age unless it's happened to you. My name is the only direct link to my father that I've got. I have not a single memory of him. Not one. No blog, no family videos, no journal or letters - just pictures and a few items in a shoe box. Family members have memories, but really, by the time I was old enough to hear and understand them, so much time had passed that even their memories had faded. And he was only 21 when he died. No one knows the man he would have become.
It's easy to see that I've inherited traits from my father. He was skinny and had brown, cow-licked hair. He was bowlegged, had acne and crooked teeth. He was passionate, compassionate, and took risks. He loved listening to Jackson Browne. Sometimes he spent money with abandon (okay, not so much this one).
The day I found out I was pregnant with Lee, I told you I immediately smoked my last two cigarettes. What I didn't tell you was that I then went into the den, put on Kenny Loggins' Danny's Song, and sobbed. I cried because I knew how happy our families would be to find out the news, and how happy our fathers would have been to see their first grandchild. It's the first time in a long time, if ever, I've wept for my father.
I think I can speak for my mother when I say our lives have been blessed and we are grateful for what has happened in the years since 1979. My father's death changed us and our relationship. Without my dad Alan, Amanda, Papaw and Mamaw, and entire Newman family my life would not be the same. Nor would Lee's or Ryan's.
I pray Lee has some of my father's traits, too. As I celebrate Lee's 18-month birthday and every birthday hereafter, I pray my father's memory is also celebrated. And soon another Daniel will be joining the party.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Friday, August 10, 2012
Third Child (an old favorite)
**Now that this blog is my new home, I'm re-publishing some of my favorite posts over here.**
originally published: MONDAY, AUGUST 29, 2011
Back when Daniel was around six months old, I wrote a post comparing how some things had changed with the second child. I thought it might be fun to write a new one for the third child. The text below is from the original post, and I've added how it's different now with Eliza. (The first child is normal font, the second child is italicized, and the third child is bold font.
Lee wasn't allowed to watch TV until he was 15 months old, and then it was limited to 15 minutes a day. I bodily threw myself in front of the TV to block his view.
Daniel's first word was probably "Thomas" or "Elmo."
Eliza already knows how to turn on the TV and switch the source input on the remote to CD/DVD.
If we dropped Lee's pacifier, I didn't rinse it. I just checked for cat hairs and popped it back in.
I considered cat hair extra protein.
Eliza doesn't often use a pacifier because we can never find one.
I obsessed over Lee's naps -- how long they were, how frequent, whether he cried, if he needed a pacifier.
Daniel was lucky if he got 30 minutes of sleep before his brother woke him up.
Eliza naps in my arms (our favorite place), in the boppy, in her bassinet, in the car, on the porch, or on the couch. I'm not sure how often or how long, but she sleeps when she's tired.
Lee's routine never wavered; he ate, slept, and pooped like clockwork.
I remembered to feed Daniel most of the time.
Eliza may have a routine, but I haven't noticed.
Lee slept on his back with no blankets.
Daniel slept on his stomach with a warm, fuzzy afghan to cover him.
Eliza sleeps on her back or side because she prefers that. At night she sleeps beside me because I prefer it. She's still loosely swaddled.
We gave Lee a bath every night, rubbed him down with lotion, played lullaby songs, and read 3 books as part of a bedtime routine.
Daniel got two baths a week, if he was lucky. Instead of Goodnight Moon he got to hear age-appropriate books like Potty Time. If the TV was turned on, his lullaby was the "Wheel of Fortune" theme song. (this was written before we nixed cable, obviously)
Eliza gets a bath when she stinks. Then I carry her around while I do my nightly chores. She's lulled to sleep by the sound of the vacuum cleaner.
Lee's toys were boiled before he touched them. I made sure he always had something stimulating to play with.
I didn't rinse off the toys when I got them out of the attic for Daniel (insulation = another form of protein). Sometimes he played with wadded up junk mail.
Eliza's still young for toys, but I can predict that she will play with things labeled "NOT APPROPRIATE FOR CHILDREN UNDER 3 YEARS."
I talked to Lee constantly, narrating my day and describing everything around us.
When Daniel and I were alone on Thursdays, he may have heard one word -- "MOZART!!!!"
Eliza never experiences silence. Ever.
When Lee cried, I tried to figure out why and fix it.
When Daniel cried, I drank wine.
Eliza doesn't cry. At least I don't think she does. If she did, I probably wouldn't hear it.
Every month we read about Lee's developmental milestones and educated ourselves about the best way to raise an intelligent, adjusted, kind child.
I lost the books. Our goal for Daniel was that he survived childhood.
People actually wrote books about this stuff?
originally published: MONDAY, AUGUST 29, 2011
Back when Daniel was around six months old, I wrote a post comparing how some things had changed with the second child. I thought it might be fun to write a new one for the third child. The text below is from the original post, and I've added how it's different now with Eliza. (The first child is normal font, the second child is italicized, and the third child is bold font.
Lee wasn't allowed to watch TV until he was 15 months old, and then it was limited to 15 minutes a day. I bodily threw myself in front of the TV to block his view.
Daniel's first word was probably "Thomas" or "Elmo."
Eliza already knows how to turn on the TV and switch the source input on the remote to CD/DVD.
If we dropped Lee's pacifier, I didn't rinse it. I just checked for cat hairs and popped it back in.
I considered cat hair extra protein.
Eliza doesn't often use a pacifier because we can never find one.
I obsessed over Lee's naps -- how long they were, how frequent, whether he cried, if he needed a pacifier.
Daniel was lucky if he got 30 minutes of sleep before his brother woke him up.
Eliza naps in my arms (our favorite place), in the boppy, in her bassinet, in the car, on the porch, or on the couch. I'm not sure how often or how long, but she sleeps when she's tired.
Lee's routine never wavered; he ate, slept, and pooped like clockwork.
I remembered to feed Daniel most of the time.
Eliza may have a routine, but I haven't noticed.
Lee slept on his back with no blankets.
Daniel slept on his stomach with a warm, fuzzy afghan to cover him.
Eliza sleeps on her back or side because she prefers that. At night she sleeps beside me because I prefer it. She's still loosely swaddled.
We gave Lee a bath every night, rubbed him down with lotion, played lullaby songs, and read 3 books as part of a bedtime routine.
Daniel got two baths a week, if he was lucky. Instead of Goodnight Moon he got to hear age-appropriate books like Potty Time. If the TV was turned on, his lullaby was the "Wheel of Fortune" theme song. (this was written before we nixed cable, obviously)
Eliza gets a bath when she stinks. Then I carry her around while I do my nightly chores. She's lulled to sleep by the sound of the vacuum cleaner.
Lee's toys were boiled before he touched them. I made sure he always had something stimulating to play with.
I didn't rinse off the toys when I got them out of the attic for Daniel (insulation = another form of protein). Sometimes he played with wadded up junk mail.
Eliza's still young for toys, but I can predict that she will play with things labeled "NOT APPROPRIATE FOR CHILDREN UNDER 3 YEARS."
I talked to Lee constantly, narrating my day and describing everything around us.
When Daniel and I were alone on Thursdays, he may have heard one word -- "MOZART!!!!"
Eliza never experiences silence. Ever.
When Lee cried, I tried to figure out why and fix it.
When Daniel cried, I drank wine.
Eliza doesn't cry. At least I don't think she does. If she did, I probably wouldn't hear it.
Every month we read about Lee's developmental milestones and educated ourselves about the best way to raise an intelligent, adjusted, kind child.
I lost the books. Our goal for Daniel was that he survived childhood.
People actually wrote books about this stuff?
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Innocence = Painted Toenails
Monday morning I was distracted when Lee passed by carrying a handful of markers. When it occurred to me to ask what he planned to do with them, his answer surprised me: "Paint my fingernails."
Oh. Okay.
The next time I saw him, his fingernails were a peculiar shade of green. Daniel's were blue-ish brown. I talked them into leaving Eliza's alone.
"Mom, can you paint our toes, too?" Lee asked.
We went back to my bathroom and sifted through the available colors (left over from college). They picked brown and red after I told them my collection didn't include the requested green.
They sat still for two minutes while I painted. That's a record for sitting-still time, in case you're counting. After I finished they ran fifty laps around the porch and house to try to expedite the drying process.
Today is Wednesday, and it's still there.
We've been to the playground, the library, the grocery store, and Biltmore Farm. We haven't been around other kids, and none of the adults we've seen have commented on their rainbowed toes.
We live in Asheville, after all, where men stay home with the kids, have long hair, and wear earrings. The gender lines are blurry here.
I told them when I was painting, "Usually girls are the ones who wear toenail polish." They didn't care.
We don't emphasize gender stereotypes, but I recognize boys with painted toenails may make people squeamish. We'll probably take it off tonight just to avoid any potential uncomfortable situations.
For a few days, it was nice to see my boys enjoy something they thought was pretty. Without shame, without reservation, and without ulterior motives.
Little feet with red and brown toenails pressing the pedal of a rusty green tractor. For me, that's The Image of innocence and beauty.
Oh. Okay.
The next time I saw him, his fingernails were a peculiar shade of green. Daniel's were blue-ish brown. I talked them into leaving Eliza's alone.
"Mom, can you paint our toes, too?" Lee asked.
We went back to my bathroom and sifted through the available colors (left over from college). They picked brown and red after I told them my collection didn't include the requested green.
They sat still for two minutes while I painted. That's a record for sitting-still time, in case you're counting. After I finished they ran fifty laps around the porch and house to try to expedite the drying process.
Today is Wednesday, and it's still there.
We've been to the playground, the library, the grocery store, and Biltmore Farm. We haven't been around other kids, and none of the adults we've seen have commented on their rainbowed toes.
We live in Asheville, after all, where men stay home with the kids, have long hair, and wear earrings. The gender lines are blurry here.
I told them when I was painting, "Usually girls are the ones who wear toenail polish." They didn't care.
We don't emphasize gender stereotypes, but I recognize boys with painted toenails may make people squeamish. We'll probably take it off tonight just to avoid any potential uncomfortable situations.
For a few days, it was nice to see my boys enjoy something they thought was pretty. Without shame, without reservation, and without ulterior motives.
Little feet with red and brown toenails pressing the pedal of a rusty green tractor. For me, that's The Image of innocence and beauty.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Completed: Short Sleeve Raglans
I managed to get a couple of shirts finished Wednesday night. (The muslin I made that night for a dress I'm working on was a big fail, but it didn't take too much time, so I wasn't discouraged.)
 |
| Right before I snapped this, Daniel said to Lee, "Lee, I love you. You're my best friend." Melt. My. Heart. |
Stats:
Pattern: short sleeve raglan tee from Sewing for Boys by Shelly Figueroa and Karen LePage
Fabric: lightweight knit from Spiritex's warehouse sale last spring
I've got so much love for this pattern. Next time I'll take their advice in the book and use a stabilizer on the neckband stitches before I topstitch the neck. There's a way to eliminate the gathers at the neck. I'll figure it out. They're supposed to be fitted, but I went up a size. Lee's fits perfectly (size 6/7), but Daniel's is a little tight in the neck (size 2/3). The reversed-matching look for the boys is adorable, so I'll repeat this project again. Maybe with long sleeves for the winter.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Completed: Comfy Banded Shorts #3
For these shorts, I started with an X-Large cotton shirt from Dollar Store. The waistband was made with coordinating knit from my stash.
Here's the result. The plaids don't match up, but they didn't match on the shirt. (Matching plaid takes more material, and with cheap shirts from the Dollar Store you can bet they use as little fabric as possible.)
They fit even better than the last pair. I used my own shorts pattern again.
 |
| those mis-matched plaids are killing me! |
Friday, July 13, 2012
Completed: Denim Shorts with Comfort Waistband
Shorts for Lee have been on my to-do list for a while, and I finally got around to a pair. I started with some old Hollister jeans that were mine. Apparently I didn't know that Hollister = teenage brand = low rise enough to see crack
So, I cut them, keeping the outside leg seams for simplicity's sake.
Then I used an existing pair of shorts to figure out a pattern. I added a waistband made from a fleece pullover I've had since 10th grade. (You know how I know it's that old? Angela and I bought matching ones from American Eagle before anyone shopped at American Eagle. I remember wearing my XL gray pullover to work at O'Charley's.)
I sewed up the crotch and legs, threaded some elastic through the waistband, serged it all together, hemmed them up, and called it shorts.
Lee liked them, and the fit was close to perfect. These were my test pair. I've got plans for more with some tweaks like a faux fly, adjusted elastic placement (to the center of the waistband), pockets, and a faux drawstring. If I'm feeling frisky, it may turn into my very first tutorial.
So, I cut them, keeping the outside leg seams for simplicity's sake.
Then I used an existing pair of shorts to figure out a pattern. I added a waistband made from a fleece pullover I've had since 10th grade. (You know how I know it's that old? Angela and I bought matching ones from American Eagle before anyone shopped at American Eagle. I remember wearing my XL gray pullover to work at O'Charley's.)
I sewed up the crotch and legs, threaded some elastic through the waistband, serged it all together, hemmed them up, and called it shorts.
Lee liked them, and the fit was close to perfect. These were my test pair. I've got plans for more with some tweaks like a faux fly, adjusted elastic placement (to the center of the waistband), pockets, and a faux drawstring. If I'm feeling frisky, it may turn into my very first tutorial.
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