All the Books (and not much sewing)

I didn’t get to the sewing I had planned this week. Goodness! I had to concentrate so hard on relinquishing summer with grace and getting back to school that it took everything I had.{And it wasn't pretty. The Grace was all God's. I was not graceful.} But I do have plans for sewing with Katie this afternoon, so maybe I’ll slip a picture in a little later.

Photo credit: Vine of Plenty

Kristin did do some super-cute and very practical sewing this week. Lucy tends to make a mess of the Ergo straps. It’s a pain to wash the whole Ergo, but it’s nasty to wear the mess. Kristin made removable teething pads that add a little dash of fashion and are oh-so-practical. She’s got a tutorial for you over at her place.

In the reading department, I took my reviewer’s copy of Mary Beth Hicks’ new book, Teachable Moments, to the orthodontist yesterday. I love my orthodontist. That's not an affiliate link. Just a fact. His wife is going to need to make some of those teething pads very soon. Pretty much the whole neighborhood is thrilled for them. (Hi, Margaret! You're in the blog;-)

Back to Teachable Moments. Here's a snippet of the book description: Never have Christian families been so challenged by the world around them to instill and instruct their children in the tenets of their faith. Moral relativism literally seeps into every facet of family life and saturates our popular culture. A ubiquitous media presence that defines our daily experience also is defining the attitudes and behaviors of those who consume it. Yet within this pervasive secular culture, Christian families encounter “teachable moments,” those unplanned but unmatched opportunities to put their faith into action and live out the values and virtues embodied in Jesus Christ. When looking for teachable moments, parents, and coaches must approach each day with intentionality, seeking out and capitalizing on opportunities to incorporate life lessons into every day experiences amid the culture.

Oh my goodness! Yes! This is a book for times such a these. Such a needed book! I plan to write a column about in the next week or so. Mary Beth Hicks has a realistic, firm grasp on what’s happening out there and what we must do in order to raise good kids in spite of what’s happening out there. She writes with wisdom and experience and good-old fashioned common sense. This book is worth a conversation.

Speaking of conversations, we’re having one about What Alice Forgot. How about that? I’m reading fiction and I’m conversing about fiction. And pretty much loving it. Join us, won’t you?

I also started The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society. A friend loaned it to me several years ago and I really tried back then to read it, but couldn’t. Of course, that was when it was the “hot book” and everyone was reading and sharing. Now, I’m just going to read it all by myself. Le sigh.

I’m listening to Eat, Move, Sleep: How Small Choices Lead to Big Changes.

I've long been a fan of small choices;-). It was a ridiculously good deal on Audible and since I won’t have any credits until the end of September and I have already listened to everything in my library at least twice, I figured I would give it a go. So, here I am, right back in the land of the self-help book. I like it though, and I’m thinking about a project for October. I'm also thinking about how I need to figure out how to use my library card for audio books. Every day, it's a new lesson at the computer...

What about you? What are you reading? How about sewing? Is anyone thinking about Christmas sewing? I'd really love to be all organized and in front of that this year. Someone have a good idea for teachers' gifts? Office gifts? Oh, and the Fat Quarter Shop has a new shipping policy! Now is a really good time for me to buy some fabric and start creating.

In the United States: 

Orders below $80 will be $4.95 

Orders below $10 can ship for $1.95

In Canada:

Orders $100 to $200 will be $40

Orders below $100 will be $20

Orders below $20 can ship for $9

Internationally:

Orders over $100 will be $40

Orders below $100 will be $24

Orders below $20 can ship for $12

Fat Quarter Shop ships super quick and they're always really personable and helpful. Now, please, someone tell me what to sew!

Girl Talk: What Alice Forgot

I mentioned last week that I'd recently read What Alice Forgot and several of you said you were up for a little girl talk. It's the kind of book that sticks with you, makes you ponder, and begs to be discussed over a pumpkin spice latte and some gingerbread. So, let's do that!

The premise of the book is captured in the blurb from the book jacket above. I have to admit--I think this is a really great plot. I was hooked after reading descriptions and held off for awhile just because --ahem-- I don't really read fiction. Except now I do.

It's impossible to read the book and not wonder how I'd react if the same memory loss happened to me. I could even relate to the whole "passing out at the gym" scenario. Mary Beth did that just last year. I caught her as she crumpled to the floor (and if I hadn't broken her fall, the marble floor would have been unrelenting and a head injury was waiting to happen). Ambulances came. So, the book? Totally believable. 

I did wonder if I'd believe that a marriage could go from very, very happy to on the brink of divorce in the space of ten years. I mean, I know marriages do, in real life, all the time. But it begs the question: were they really happy or did they just think they were happy? Alice and Nick seem genuinely happy. As she comes to and becomes "young Alice," it's pretty clear she's head-over-heels. So what happened?

At one point, Alice's trainer reminds her that she once said her marriage fell apart over sleep (or the lack thereof). This idea is explored further, both for the good and the bad, in her memories of Nick. She remembers him sending her to bed when she was deliriously tired as a new mom. She's touched by the memory that he took the day off that day. But she also remembers far more days when she is left at home, burning both candles at all ends, while he is away at work. She is lonely and she is tired. Definitely not good over the longterm. Those bleary, sleep-deprived baby years take their toll. It's impossible for a woman to feel "all there" when she's operating on far too little sleep. So emotions and communications get jumbled and misinterpreted at best. And when fatigue is coupled with loneliness in marriage, it's a minefield fully loaded.  Is this striking a chord with anyone? 

I think the most telling moment of the whole lonely-tired theme is when Alice remembers the year of the Goodman project. She remembers Nick was never home. "Even when he was talking to her, he was still thinking about the office."  When Nick remembers the Goodman project he remembers that it's the project that made his career. No doubt, he missed home. He was building HOME.--supporting a family, providing increasingly well. Alice is astonished the first time she sees her house after the injury. Everything on their wish and dream list has been done. She has a lovely home. A lovely lonely home. I once heard that the hardest years on a marriage are the school-age years. Women are exhausted by the demands of growing children and men are torn away by the call of growing careers. No doubt, there are women growing careers and men caring for children, too, in many marriages. And no doubt that just makes the strain harder. The young Alice is much more empathetic towards the strains Nick surely experienced; she appreciates the hard work he's evidently done. The older Alice, I think, is worn down by the dailiness of it all (and maybe a little poisoned by Gina's perceptions.) Certainly, the lonely-tired thing played a big part in the growing apart. But how could that have been different? What would have made them grow closer instead of further apart?

 I think maybe Gina played a bigger part than even fatigue. In her loneliness, Alice forged a bond with Gina. She looked to Gina for leadership. She let Gina steer her ship and shape her into an image of, well, Gina. Without Gina, I think Alice would have been compelled to continue to seek Nick for conversation and emotional support and to share with Nick the little nuances of heart as she grew into her role as a mature mother. With Gina (who might have actually been jealous of Alice and Nick), Alice sought companionship across the street and stopped looking to her husband. Alice strikes me as really sensitive (at least the young Alice was). Nick accused her of confusing their relationship with Gina's and Mike's, specifically of seeing in him the same faults Gina saw in Mike. Her sensitivity, often a very good thing, primed her to identify too closely with her friend. It's all very believable. The cautionary tale is in big, bold letters: be very, very careful when you entrust your heart to a girlfriend.

That girlfriend should make you a better person. She should encourage you to be a better wife. If not, don't get too close... Don't get close at all. How should women balance their friendships--especially with close confidantes--and their marriages? Should they reserve some things solely for their husbands? Should they be sure to tell their girlfriends all the trivial details of the day, lest they burden husbands with the mundane? What about couples' friendships? In the beginning, Mike and Gina were good friends with Alice and Nick. What makes a good couples' friendship? How do we cultivate those?

Alice's complete amnesia regarding her children is fascinating. I can't imagine that part. I can't imagine touching the c-section scar and not remembering the fear and the relief that came with it. I can't imagine looking at a ten-year-old, knowing she was everything you ever wanted and not knowing at all who she was. I think her children were thrilled with the young Alice, having grown a bit weary of the nearly-40 Alice. I kind of think my children would very much like to get to know 29-year-old me. Especially my little girls. I'm pretty old for a little girl mom. I got all the way to thirty, with three little boys and baby on the way, without ever raising my voice. True story. Sometimes, I think that, like Alice, there was much more to like in the younger version of me. What about you? What would your kids notice if they woke up tomorrow and you were the person that you were ten years ago? Good thing or bad? 

I could go on forever, but I want to hear what you're thinking. One last thing, though: Before her memory returns,  Alice asks Nick to tell what his happiest memories of the last ten years are. He doesn't get much past the birth of their children (and actually, it was the hours after birth and not the births themselves that he remembers fondly). He has lots of sad memories for her, though. It's as if the balance sheet is very askew. But the young Alice (living in the old Alice's body and bewildered at how it all is turning out) holds tightly to the littlest happy things. She has an appreciation for them. More than that, she's willing to invest in them and build on them. I asked those questions of my husband when I was reading the book. His answers sort of surprised me. We had the same sad memory, but we've lived it out very differently this year. And the happy ones were different. Something to ponder.

And I haven't each touched upon Frannie's story and Elisabeth's. It's your turn. What about you? What parts of this book just beg to be discussed?

Gathering Resources Before 9/11

I'm hoping to give you a head start on talking with your children about 9/11. This year, when threats seem so very real again, I've noticed that my children (the older ones, who have heard recent news) are more anxious than in years past. The events of 9/11 no longer seem like early childhood memories or the reminiscences of older siblings. There is a real and present danger. And so, we talk and we learn and walk together in faith.

A few years ago, my mother attended a book signing by author A. B. Curtis. She bought a book for my children and mailed it to them. I have to admit I was skeptical of a children's book about the tragedy of September 11, 2001. How do you capture the horror in rhyming verse and whimsical pictures? You don't. Instead, Ms. Curtis tells the story of St. Paul's church, an historical church that stands fewer than 100 yards from where the towers stood. The chapel became a refuge and launching point for the rescuers who were on the scene. Every time I read the book tears well in my eyes at the thought of the fireman who hung their shoes on the chapel fence before they went into the towers:

Oh what gallant men did we lose

Who never came back to get their shoes!

The book is a gentle re-telling. Our children are surrounded every day by references to the horror that forever changed our world. They will ask what "9/11" means and they surely deserve to be answered. But, little ones should not see that footage and they should not be bombarded with remembrances more appropriate for grief-stricken, terrorized adults. Childhood is all too brief. Very soon, they will be old enough to learn the details of the day. For now, this book tells them a story of hope amidst the charred ruins. A story we all need to hear.

You can read the entire book and see the pictures here. But get the book. Really. It's worth holding in your lap.

Fireboat is a whimsically illustrated children's book that tells the story of John J. Harvey, a fireboat that witnessed the growth of New York city throughout the 20th century. There are lots of intersting little things to learn about culture and about fireboats. It's a gentle, happy picture book. Then, the book takes an abrupt turn and becomes stark when the author reaches September 11, 2001. She focuses onthe heroes and not on the violence, but this is still a very realistic book and the whimsy evaporates into the bright blue sky, just as it did that Septmember day. It's a good read and it's a story that somehow sticks with us long after the covers of the book are closed. I strongly suggest parents preview it--you might you want to use it with children older than the typical picture book age.  To extend the conversation, you might visit the John J. Harvey website or take a peek at the study guide for the book.

It's not technically a 9/11 book, but I love to read (sing) Wendell Minor's inllustrated version of America the Beautiful. On the page where we sing, "Thine alabaster cities gleam/Undimmed by human tears" Minor has painted a picture of the fallen tower site with the towering lights gleaming upwards to commemorate the loss. It's an image that just fits that particular place in the song written so long before the event. And this book, this song, these words--they do so much to heal hearts and remind us of the blessings of this great country.

As my children have gotten older, I've tried to find some new resources for them  A Nation Challenged (the Young Readers' Edition) is a favorite. America is Under Attack is still a picture book, but its edges are not as soft as the ones above.The 9/11 Report: A Graphic Adaptation is a graphic interpretation of the 800 page government commission's report that is appropriate for teenagers who really don't remember and are now old enough to begin to study the history of the event. New to us this year is 9-11: Artists Respond , a collection of stories and art in response to tragedy. Art is therapy. And art is part of our national culture. Creating some art on this day might be therapeutic for all.

It's rare for high school students to interact with primary source documents that are written by people just a decade older than they are. With Their Eyes: September 11th--The View from a High School at Ground Zero is just such a work. Ten students at Stuyvesant High School, four blocks from Ground Zero, conducted interviews with the high school community in the days after the attacks. This work is a compilation of responses and recollections. This one is new to us this year, too. I started reading online while waiting for it to arrive and find it gripping. 

What we want most from our study of history, even recent history, is to learn from the mistakes and to go forth wiser. I think the the first lessons we asked of ourselves were lessons in compassion and in seeking peace in community. We banded together to bind our wounds. Then came the lessons in safety and security. We have a new normal now when it comes to things like airline security and unattended backpacks in shopping malls. It is critical, however, that our children broaden their understanding and begin to become aware of who the perpetrators were and how they think. There is evil in the world and teenagers are not too young to know that. PBS has a whole series of lesson plans for further investigation. And our teens are listening to and talking about the Teaching Company course Utopia and Terror in the 20th Century. 

September 11 tends to be a melancholy day. A couple years ago, we began a new tradition. In the afternoon, we all sat together and spent some time thinking about peace. We were guided by one of the excellent e-courses offered by Mariah Bruehl, author of Playful Learning, easily one of my favorite educational resources.

 This course, Be a Peacemaker, is an opportunity for parents and children to discuss with each other ways to bring peace into ourselves, our homes, and ultimately, the world.

Peaceful children--intentionally creating peace in our homes and helping children to create peace within themselves--is an important purpose in the education of souls. Over the course of conversation, using Mariah's prompts, we shared what comforts us, what brings us peace. I could see Katie plotting ways to make the house smell like the Basilica next time she thinks I need to bring a little calm into my soul. At first, I was going to exclude Stephen and Mary Beth from the lesson time, but I invited them to  join instead. As she set off with her printable, Mary Beth (a teenager nearly ready to leave home) asked, "Will you use this to help us next time we feel stressed?" Good plan. I think these are keepers, for sure.

Wishing you peace in your homes and your hearts!

O God of love, compassion, and healing,
look on us, people of many different faiths
and traditions,
who gather today at this site,
the scene of incredible violence and pain.
We ask you in your goodness
to give eternal light and peace
to all who died here—
the heroic first-responders:
our fire fighters, police officers,
emergency service workers, and
Port Authority personnel,
along with all the innocent men and women
who were victims of this tragedy
simply because their work or service
brought them here on September 11, 2001.

We ask you, in your compassion
to bring healing to those
who, because of their presence here that day,
suffer from injuries and illness.
Heal, too, the pain of still-grieving families
and all who lost loved ones in this tragedy.
Give them strength to continue their lives
with courage and hope.

We are mindful as well
of those who suffered death, injury, and loss
on the same day at the Pentagon and in
Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
Our hearts are one with theirs
as our prayer embraces their pain and suffering.

God of peace, bring your peace to our violent world:
peace in the hearts of all men and women
and peace among the nations of the earth.
Turn to your way of love
those whose hearts and minds
are consumed with hatred.
God of understanding,
overwhelmed by the magnitude of this tragedy,
we seek your light and guidance
as we confront such terrible events.
Grant that those whose lives were spared
may live so that the lives lost here
may not have been lost in vain.

Comfort and console us,
strengthen us in hope,
and give us the wisdom and courage
to work tirelessly for a world
where true peace and love reign
among nations and in the hearts of all.

Pope Benedict XI--Prayer at Ground Zero
New York, 20 April 2008 

{Just a note: we have been encouraged to pause and remember and pray every time we notice that the clock reads 9:11. In this way, we remember; we teach our our children to remember; and we truly will not forget.}

The Best Things Happen in the Margins {The Wider, the Better}

It’s funny the moments that stand out clearly in one’s memory. I remember driving to work the first day of school, the first year I taught, ready to begin an adventure with first grade. The traffic reporter was waxing sentimental for a moment and told the greater DC commuting community that his daughter was heading off to her first day of first grade.  In a very tangible way, I was reminded that every child in my class, faces yet to be learned, was someone’s precious first-grader.

By my calculations, that little girl is now about 33 years old. She might even have a first-grader of her own. That makes me old. On the other hand, this week, my five-year-old begins her kindergarten journey. That makes me young. Then again, my fourth child and first daughter begins her senior year of high school this week. That makes me old again.  One last year to begin the schoolgirl journey with a child in pigtails. One last year to teach my first little girl everything I want her to know before she leaves home. Let’s do this right.

I’m glad that popular convention holds that September is the new January. For me, September has always been a “January” of sorts: fresh notebooks unblemished with rips or tears or the scars of backpacks and bus rides; new school shoes that squeak and make one self-conscious as if the whole world could hear; the wood and carbon smell of a “bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils” — a whole academic year unfurls before us, full of promise and opportunity. September is a hopeful month.

I am most hopeful that September will have very broad margins. Amidst the busyness of a new school year and all the new commitments that come with it, I appoint myself sentry over the broad margin. I entrust myself with guarding the time and space for relationship and connection. If we’re going to “do this right,” we are going to have to connect with one another in meaningful, intentional ways.

September always has a pulling-away quality about it when considered in the context of home. This September finds my eldest “child” celebrating his own birthday for the first time as a father. It finds the next two boys each in a different college town. Pulling away, there is always pulling away. For children still at home, well-considered activities and burgeoning friendships pull them from the house, broadening horizons and enriching experiences.

One of the essential lessons I want to impart to my big girl, even as she pencils calendar squares with academics and work and dance, is to highlight the margins in ink. The margins are where the soul work happens. And the margins are where rest, relationship and recollection make sense of the stuff of life.

There is a broad margin around the calendar entry that holds place for my kindergartener’s dance lesson. It’s an extra 20 minutes before the start time and another after the finish time. In that margin, we will walk hand-in-hand to and from dance, instead of driving up five minutes before the class begins and driving straight home afterward. During our walks, she will be filled with all the little observations she always makes when she moves slowly through her familiar world. And I will be filled with the lilting sound of her still babyish voice telling me all her very important “things.”

There is a broad margin at the end of the day, after children are tucked into bed and prayers are said. It is reserved for a FaceTime conversation if my husband is away — a chance to catch up on the day’s happenings and hold each other’s attention, complete with the nuances of inflection and expression that evade our too-often text messages. If he is at home, it is reserved for pillow talk, television silenced and cell phones far out of reach — all the better.

We fill our lives with many important things. The lessons and the appointments and the practices woven so carefully make up the fabric of our lives. But it is the warm, bright border that frames the fabric — the margin — that makes this a quilt of artistry and comfort, something in which we will wrap ourselves for a lifetime. So, here’s to a happy “new year,” one filled with setting firm foundations, making happy memories and loving well in the broad margins of our lives.

On Instagram, Kelli Sanders tagged this post with a variation of #smallstepsinwidemargins . I think she's nailed the prevailing philosophy for the fall. And maybe the whole year. Thanks, Kelli! I'm going to keep tagging with it and I hope you will too. Join us?

We're all About REAL: Pumpkin Spice Latte

Last week, my friend Marcia sent me this post, thereby ending any lingering fascination I might have had with Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte. (I'm so over Starbucks sweet stuff anyway.) This morning, my son, who has long loved the lattes of fall, is lamenting the ubiquitous pumpkin. 

Today seems like the perfect day to repost this recipe and embrace the coming crunch of the leaves::

As the season changes, I'm drawn to those orange chalked signs that promise steaming mugs of fall, complete with whipped frothiness and steam infused with nutmeg. 

They cost a small fortune. They require leaving home. And really, they're sticky sweet.

We can do better.

My friend Sarah has her hands full these days. She's got three babies under two and they have three siblings. Busy, busy. And sleep deprived beyond imagination. Sarah has sacrificed milk in order to try to conquer her wee ones' tendency towards ear infections. So, she's been drinking Pumpkin Spice Via mixed into coconut milk. She froths it with a handy-dandy dinglehopper. It's quick and tasty. But the mama bear in me says,

"Girlfriend, you are demanding incredible things of your body. You're depriving it of sleep. You're the sole source of nutrition for two babies who have deliciously fat cheeks and thighs. You need to take care of you. So let's make this sweet indulgence a little healthier."

We have two choices here, the hot and the cold.

We have two choices here, the hot and the cold.

First the hot:

12 ounces warm coconut or almond millk ( I prefer almond) Homemade almond milk here for people who aren't loving on twin babies right now.

1 teaspoon instant expresso (or just plain old instant coffee)

1/4 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

1/4 cup canned pumpkin (or up to half a cup, which is a legitimate vegetable serving)

scraping the seeds of a vanilla bean into this mixture makes it an exceptionally undulgent luxury

sweetener to taste:  here's where you can make a huge difference. I think PSLs at Starbucks are too sweet for my taste. Pumpkin Spice Via has 60 calories--all of them sugar calories, the equivalent of 4 teaspoons of sugar. I drink my version with unsweetened almond milk and just one teaspoon of raw honey. You can play with this to your taste; think maple syrup or molasses or honey or even sugar if it's just too much work to look at alternatives. It's unlikely that you really need 4 teaspoons of sugar, though.

You stir it all to blend and then froth it with a dinglehopper. Alternatively, you can put it all in the blender and give it a whirl. Sprinkle the top with more pumpkin spice.

The cold version:

This is a legitimate breakfast. Real food:-)

12 ounces milk or milk alternative

1/2 cup canned pumpkin

1/4 cup almonds

1/4 teaspoon pumpkin spice

1 teaspoon (or more) raw honey or maple syrup  (if you like)

1 teaspoon instant coffee or expresso

the seeds of a vanilla bean if you are so inclined

Blend all of the above until it's smooth. Then add a handful of ice and blend again. Pour and sprinkle a little more pumpkin spice on top. 

[Alternatives: You can eliminate the coffee altogether. You can add half a frozen banana. You can freeze brewed coffee into ice cubes and use those instead of water ice and in place of instant coffee.]

So, there you go, a healthy alternative to pricey autumn-in-a-cup.