domesticana

Needle Felting Fairies & Mermaids

My parents constantly act shocked that I aspire to add new, wacky crafts to my list of pleasures, and I'm sure this one tops their list of least likely things they ever would have imagined I'd want to do as an adult. But, there you go. I guess we can't always see the future for our children.

Ella's kindergarten teacher organized an event a few months back for all her class parents to meet the school's handwork teacher. As you might expect, only the moms showed up, but we had such a nice time sitting around gossiping together. The handwork teacher, Miss Laurie, set up the room with foam blocks and felting needles, walked us through the steps to make a basic doll and then let us loose to do with it what we would. I decided to add some wings and make a little 'fairy mother' for Ella, and it has since been one of her prize possessions. The next day, she and I sat down and used some leftover wool to make the little babies she's holding, and Ella was pretty thrilled to pick up a needle and start stabbing away.

We're doing a fund raiser for Ella's class next month, and I tried to get some of the interested moms together to make some little needle-felted crafts to sell. It ended up being a bust, but now I have all the supplies for myself! I worked on this new fairy mother doll and her babes (this time with little wings!), and I'll try my best to part with her. How much do you think I should charge? $25? Is that too much? Too little? I really have no idea what something like this would sell for...

With all my leftover supplies, I've decided to make Ella a little mer-family for her upcoming birthday. I've got the mama mermaid in the works and am on the lookout for some miniature shells to cover her fluffy chest. I think she needs a big, strong merman and a daughter and maybe a merbaby too. I'll take more pictures as they come together...

Brooke's Lova is Here!

The lovely and amazing Brooke, goddess and birth warrior, is finally holding her new baby girl, in her arms!

Go check out her mom's sweet summary and picture!

It Must be in the Air

Springtime in Sonoma county is blissful: cool mornings, sunny afternoons and everyone itching to spend the whole day outside. After "quiet time" the other day, we went over to our friends' cul-de-sac for a little bicycle action on the street. When I told Ella our plans, she smiled brightly, with so much generosity in her voice and said, "Oh, those guys are so lucky to live on such a nice street!" Incidentally, we live on a highway.

With the sun still warming us low in the sky, the kids raced back and forth down the street and then spent a good hour playing with the gravel in my friend's front yard. They buried each other in it and filled their tucked-in t-shirts until they looked pregnant and chubby. They were hysterical with giggles and filthy with dust, and the whole scene was just one of those perfect life moments. Nothing special, just a simple, satisfying afternoon.

After the children had completely stretched out their t-shirts with rocks, Ella asked one the of the neighbor boys if he was going to tell his mom about his ruined shirt when he got home. He was balancing on his bike, standing still, when he slowly put his feet on the ground and said, "I don't have a mom." Not quite grasping the gravity in his voice, or maybe she did, Ella responded, "Oh, do you have two daddies?"

Witnessing their interaction from afar, I smiled at her modern assumption and then my heart just broke as he told her that his mother had died four years ago. He just has a dad now, he said. And a grandma. And a kid brother. Only a few seconds passed when they all shrugged it off and went back at it on their bikes, but I'm not so easily distracted.

We seem to be surrounded with breaking families lately. Two of Ella's close school friends' parents are going through difficult divorces (is that redundant?), and another is clearly on the brink. Then we learned that our neighbors/friends are splitting up and moving (separately) across town. On top of all that, a few weeks ago and out of the blue as far as I was concerned, my sister-in-law practically arrived on our doorstep after fleeing the state to escape her husband of 24 years. He had some kind of breakdown, and she had to get a year-long restraining order against him. What is going on, people? Is it something about that pesky Mercury in retrograde? Maybe I'm just finally old enough for all of my friends' marriages to start becoming part of the national stat? It's so depressing.

Despite all of that swirling around us, our life continues to improve and look brighter every day. New, and potentially very rewarding, opportunities are presenting themselves left and right, and Matt is beside himself with plans (and work). He's so excited and pleased and gracious that even his constant distraction with work isn't irritating me the way it has in the past. Finally having a light at the end of this long new business tunnel is definitely improving my patience with his workaholism.

Back to yesterday, after we'd said our goodbyes and packed up her bicycle, I stealthily encouraged Ella to tell me about her conversation with the neighbor boy, pretending I didn't know about his mother. She seemed to take it in stride—very matter-of-fact. Somehow that conversation segued in her mind to her neighbor friend's new living situation, and Ella said, "I wish you and daddy lived in separate houses, like S's parents, because then I would have two houses." I guess S's parents have pitched their separation to their kid as a fun new adventure, worthy of 5 year old envy. I told her that we're all happy living together, but it's nice that S is excited about her daddy's new house. Then she asked if she could have a cookie when we got home.

Apparently all this  it's not screwing with her nearly as much as it is with me!

Lacy the Little One

The school year is well underway, and Ella seems to be growing up before my very eyes. Kindergarten: it's so full of purity and innocence and an eagerness to explore. Her class and teacher and school have defied my wildest hopes, and she is just blossoming and loving every single moment. She wakes up excited for her day, and can't wait to get to school and see all her new friends. It's really a beautiful thing.

I'm not sure if all Waldorf Kindergartens talk about Fairy Mother and the Little Ones, but all the schools in this town do (did I mention we moved to Waldorf Mecca--there are three schools in our tiny 8,000-person town). At the beginning of the school year, we had a parent meeting, which was such a lovely evening, and Ella's new teacher told us that the kindergarten children learn about Fairy Mother, the matriarch of all the fairies and protector of the Little Ones, which are small dolls that come to join each child. The teacher and her assistant handcraft these dolls for each of the children, after they've gotten to know them a bit, and she told us about the special bond created with these unique dolls.

Fairy Mother escorts one or two Little Ones at a time into the classroom during the first two months of school, and every day the children are beside themselves with anticipation. At first, they might happen upon one of the Little Ones in the teapot or hiding on the Nature Table, but as more and more of them arrive, the kids begin to practically ransack the room each morning hoping to find one.

Ella's was one of the last dolls to arrive. Sometimes the Little Ones who have already come bring messages from Fairy Mother, and on Monday, Jack's Little One told the teacher that Ella's would be coming on Soup Day (a.k.a. Wednesday). And, he also informed everyone that her name was Lacy. Up until that point, Ella was engaged in Little One Madness, but she didn't seem terribly eager for her doll to come. But on Monday when she told me the news after school, there was a fire behind her eyes and I could feel her burning with anticipation. By the next morning, it was all she could talk about, and by Tuesday night, she could barely sleep. Lacy, Lacy, Lacy.

She woke up so early on Soup Day that the wait to go to school must have felt interminable. We ate french toast as a family, and she told us about how Lacy had visited her dreams. We searched her drawers for clothes with lace, and she seemed more than satisfied with our paltry findings. As I was getting things together to leave, I found her snuggled up on a chair with Tozai staring off into space. When I got her attention, she said, "Mommy, I can't think of anything but Lacy!"

Wednesday is our day to pick up a classmate on the way to school, and when Ella's friend climbed in the car she said, "Ella, I'm so excited. I couldn't even fall asleep last night!" I threw her dad a questioning look, and he chimed in, "I hear your Little One is coming today, Ella." How sweet is that?

At school, the girls raced in to get their indoor shoes on and dashed into the classroom. I gave the teacher a worried look and said, "Ella tells me her Little One is coming today...?" I was so relieved when she smiled knowingly and invited me to have a seat. About six kids gathered around Ella and offered to help her search. They held hands and walked around the room searching together. In the cubbies. On the bookshelf. In the 'cabin corner'. In the kitchen. On the art table. More children joined in as they arrived.

Finally, one of the girls said, "Let's ask for a clue!" and she immediately ran to the doll house to get her Little One and carry it over to the teacher. Holding the doll up to her ear, the teacher nodded, pretending to hear a secret message and said, "Red and white with a hat that's bright." The children all turned to each other and repeated it like a mantra, and then they agreed to split up and look again. After another few minutes, they asked for another clue. "Candle, candle shining bright."

That was it. They all raced for the candle table, and one of the boys gingerly picked up Ella's waiting Little One and carefully held it above his head for all to see. Then he handed it to Ella, and they all gathered around to meet the new doll. The pure innocence of this scene took my breath away. These kids all believe, wholeheartedly, that a fairy brought them their Little Ones, that these dolls chose them somehow. And their generosity and kindness and reverence, it was just so... Words don't do the moment justice.

Furry, Clumsy, Delicious

After a year of mourning the loss of Ernest and before him our old Siamese cat Ricker, we finally gave in to Ella's demands for a kitten. About a month ago, Ella and I had a special date; just the two of us out for Chinese food and a visit to the pet store while Matt was off doing this or that. As we slowly explored all the tiny cages in the store and I explained my feelings about birds in cages and fish in tanks (not a fan), Ella grew more and more restless. When we came to the kitty cages, where three little rolly-polly kittens were snuggling together in a hammock of sorts, Ella just lost it. "Oh please, oh please, oh please Mama." I explained that our landlords don't want us to have a cat in their house, and she was absolutely devastated. She cried for almost an hour that night, not because she thought she could get her way with a few tears. She was just genuinely sad that it wasn't going to happen.

Fast forward a few days and a few more tears, and Matt started to get an itch too. The three of us began daydreaming on Craigslist and even among the online photos from a rescue shelter specifically for Siamese, and before I knew it Matt was on the phone convincing our landlord to let us have a cat. Horray!

After starting down the road with the shelter (that insists on letters of recommendation, a letter from your landlord, an application, a questionnaire and an interview!), an ad popped up on Craigslist Monday for a few 8-week old kittens, one of them with Siamese markings. When I called to tell Matt, he was just leaving Canada, where he had been on business for the past week, and was driving back to Seattle in the hopes of catching a flight back into San Francisco that night. Such was our enthusiasm, he agreed to stop on the way home (at 10pm no less) to check out the kitten, and a few hours later he arrived with this cute, docile, lovable little girl.

She has taken to her new home amazingly quickly: no crying, no long bouts of hiding, no litterbox issues. She's smart as all get-out and so, so sweet. After this picture was taken, she rested her head on my arm and fell dead-asleep for almost an hour.

Ella is beside herself. She can barely function. It's wonderful. I had forgotten how important it is to have little creatures in my house.

We named her Tozai, after the sushi restaurant across from our house. Shortly after we moved here, we started eating there regularly, and one night we fortuitously met our (now) closest friends in town who happened to be seated at the table next to us. Now when people ask us how we met, we tell them that they picked us up at Sushi Tozai. It's a special place for us, and it's the perfect name for this little kitty.

Reflection of an Intruder

I toss over, barely awake, one eye on the blue glow of the clock. 3:30. Matt is softly snoring, and I have to pee. Can I just go back to sleep and ignore it? Not this time. I slowly trudge around the bed toward the hallway, shivering with the cool night air on my naked skin. Wait, what? Someone tall and dark is walking out of the bathroom. He's coming right towards me. My mouth doesn't even open as it lets out a blood curdling guttural scream. As the sound escapes my lips, I realize the door is closed. It's just my reflection in the full-length mirror. It's too late. Matt bolts out of bed, on full-body alert, and I just crumble toward him, feeling embarrassed and totally wiped out. Every vein is pulsing as Matt hugs me and says, "I know what just happened... Yeah... It's scary." Thank god I didn't pee all over the floor.

After pulling myself together enough to finish what I started and get back in bed, I lie awake trying to remember when I last felt so scared. I can't think of anything.

Fame-ous Party

Our post-child New Year's Eves have been, as one might imagine, completely boring and anti-climactic. Last year, I took Ella to a party that celebrated 'East Coast' time, which was a clever way to include children in the festivities, but I still longed for the days when celebrating New Year's involved a cocktail and a party dress, maybe even a pair of high-heels.

Shortly after we moved and met our friends Justin & Rachel, they started talking up their New Year's Eve party. They hosted one last year, to much success, and planned to do it again and 'we'd better be there, or else.' I think that was in June. That's when I started looking forward to December 31st.

So before the holidays, when we finally decided that Ella and I were off to Hawaii again, I drew the line at not being home for New Year's. I wasn't going to miss a real, grown up, bona-fide party. No way, no how. Much to my surprise, Matt agreed wholeheartedly. It's a testament to how much he likes Rachel and Justin, I believe, that he would plan anything (especially airplane travel) around a party. He's not nearly as silly as I am.

Next up: finding a babysitter. Sitters have been the New Year's conundrum, aside from Matt's ambivalence about the occasion, ever since Ella was born. No one I know wants to babysit on the one holiday that's all about partying. No one except Grandma. Bingo.

Naturally, when we broke the news to Matt's mom that we would be backing out of Christmas at her house, she was seriously bummed and wanted us to make it up to her. No problem. She got to keep Ella for a few days after we returned to California, and we got a free babysitter for New Year's Eve. Ella was happy. Grandma was happy. And we made it to a real-live, grown-up affair.

We danced (yes, even Matt). We drank cocktails (mine for the night were Blue Sapphire & Tonics), complete with Amaretto-drenched cherries and lemon twists. We scrounged for adult-pinata goods. We even sang karaoke (in this case, especially Matt). And that's where things get a little hazy.

It was later reported to me that I worried my friend Lia when I abruptly got up and left her singing solo on our duet to Fame. Oops. Apparently she thought I didn't like the way she was doing it, but I'm positive that wasn't the case. Who knows what the hell I was thinking, but I'm sure it had more to do with my intoxication than her voice, which according to Matt is very nice. I also learned that I embarrassed him to no end while he was singing when I kept saying, "Doesn't he sound good? Guys? Isn't he doing great? Everybody! Listen! Isn't Matt the BEST!" Yeah, I get a little overzealous... My face is turning red just thinking about it.

Anyway, it was an awesome party. I'm already looking forward to next year.

Music History

The other day, Ella and I were clicking around on the iTunes Music Store, listening to clips of holiday songs. She loves hearing different renditions of the same song, and while on a mission to track down as many versions of Jingle Bells as we could, Ella fell in love with "Here Comes Santa Claus". We must have heard it 50 different ways, including a very strange rendition compiled from cat meows by a group called The Jingle Cats. In our endless search, we happened to click on the Andy Williams album I grew up listening to around Christmas.

So, I told her, "Ella, this is the Christmas album I always listened to when I was a little girl."

"You mean, with your mommy on her computer?"

My how times have changed...

Na Mele O Kalikimaka

Yesterday, as we watched the Kona Christmas Parade roll by our store, and sang a few carols in shorts, tank tops and flip-flops, I was reminded of the last time I felt hot and sticky during the holidays. It was my first Christmas overseas. I was seven going on eight and we had just moved to New Delhi, India. The smell of burning manure left the inside of my nose black the minute we got off the airplane, and I don't think I could ever forget the hot, heavy air hitting me in the face, reminding me that we weren't in Kansas anymore (incidentally, we really were moving from Kansas).

After something like 22 hours on a PanAm flight, seated in the middle four seats (my parents were either very brave or very masochistic), we were greeted at the airport by the family who we were replacing. I remember looking out the window as they drove us to our new house on Bagwandas Road, seeing all the different cars and colors and so many people out in the streets, peeing on the side of road and honking their horns at everything that moved. To a seven year old from Kansas, it was quite a new world.

It must have been a few weeks later when a group of Indian men in white shalvars came to our door with drums in hand and asked if they could come in and sing us some carols. We invited them inside and they set up in our living room. Seeing this large group of Indian men squatting in a semi circle on our floor, listening as they sang a bastardized version of Jingle Bells, is a treasured memory in our family's Christmas history.

"Jingel-da-bell oh oh, Jingel-da-bell oh oh, Jin-gel all dee way. Oh what a fun, it is to ride in a one horse op-en sleigh."

Transcribing it doesn't do the song justice. It's a classic.

As we sang Mele Kalikimaka on the street yesterday, I felt an ache to be at my parents' house, putting together our beat-up fake tree and pulling out all the dough-art ornaments and ugly tinsel garlands, singing Jingel-da-bells. I don't miss my family very often, and it felt good and, well, kind of made me happy.

Nurturing the Nurturer

Someday Ella is going to make an awesome big sister. There's never been a doubt in my mind. Her whole inner world revolves around nurturing everyone she encounters, regardless of their age or whether they're human or an animal or a toy. She just lives for it. Dolls are frequently in her arms, play-nursing from her up-turned shirt or being lugged around on her hip, and if there's a tiny dog, bunny or kitty in the vicinity she's chasing it down or cuddling it to her chest. At times it's exasperating--the times when she just won't let it go, as in, "Leave the dog alone--he's running away for a reason." or "If she says she doesn't want to sit on your lap/be picked up/give you a hug, please just stop asking"--but it's hard to complain about such a sweetness in her character.

A few weeks ago, Ella got on a weird kick where she was asking all her friends, flat out, "Do you like me?" Talk about giving a four-year old power. Naturally, most of them answered, "No." just because they could, and Ella's feelings were mightily wounded. Her teacher, who I am growing to love more and more with each passing day, spoke to me about it privately after school one day, and during that conversation it occurred to me how to help her. Instead of asking them if they like her, she just needs to tell them that she likes them. Don't give them the power to hurt you--just give them the love in your heart. Her teacher had the insight to give Ella this advice in the form of a story, which is something I just don't pull out of my parenting arsenal often enough.

Allow me to go off on a tangent for just a moment... In Seattle, we had a zoo membership and went often to visit Ella's favorite animals: the gorillas and the lone jaguar. Many of our friends would complain that they never got to see the jaguar when they went, but, and I know this sounds kooky, it seemed like he had a thing for Ella. Every time we visited his habitat, Junior would come right up to the glass next to Ella and almost always curl up on his rock and stare at her. I'm not making this up--one day I brought the camera and sure enough, he came up to say hello. Anyway, when it became a regular occurrence, I made up a bedtime story about a family of jaguars, like one might do about bears or rabbits or some other animal, and I've been mirroring Ella's life in the story of this family ever since.

So, that night I told Ella a story about the baby sister jaguar, Kaya, who comes home and talks to her big brother about her friends who say they don't like her. When I came to the lesson, Ella rolled into me and held me tight, whispering, "Thank you, Mommy." She had tears in her eyes as she listened to the rest of the story. How have I not know about this story as advice technique all this time? As I said, I've been mirroring our lives with the jaguar family, but I've never used story-time specifically to give her advice.  It was remarkable.

Her teacher reported that she walked right in the next day and told all of her friends that she liked them and they all reciprocated in kind, and all was harmonious and easy again at school.

Yesterday, the teacher made a point to tell me that one of the other girls started crying when they went on their walk in the apple orchard that morning, and Ella came to the rescue. She just oozes empathy when someone is genuinely hurting, and apparently she walked right up and said, "Oh C., it's okay. Here let me give you a hug. Just rest your head here right on my chest." Ella's teacher went on to say that for the rest of the day, Ella made it her mission to be C.'s little mama; holding her hand, rubbing her head, putting her arms around her.

In so many pieces of Ella's personality, in her words and expressions and manners and demeanor, I see myself or Matt, but when it comes to this obsessive need to nurture and shower her affection on everyone, I only see her. Sure, Matt and I are loving and affectionate, but she's taken it up to the tippy-toppest notch.

She is absolutely beside herself with the notion that we might, someday, have another baby, and asks me everyday when that day might come. "When are you going to have a new baby in your tummy?" "How will it get inside you?" "Can I watch you and Daddy make it?" She's relentless. She has stopped referring to herself as her baby-dolls' mommy and is now just their big sister. She asks me at least ten times a day if I'd like to hold her baby sister and wouldn't I like to give her some of my milk and could she just watch her baby sister sleep in my arms for a while. It goes on and on.

Part of me is so intensely moved by her desire for a sibling and other parts feel both sorry for myself and wracked with guilt for not giving her something that she so desperately, desperately wants. I feel like I say this every goddamn month, but I'l be fertile and ovulating next week when we get to Kona. So, maybe a little Libra baby brother or sister is in the stars for us. It's hard to get too worked up about it, but Ella certainly never lets me forget for a moment. A blessing and a curse.