sometimes it's hard, this growing up thing

I've been feeling melancholy lately, especially over the last week. My oldest child is about to turn eight, and my baby is a year old. Even a couple of years ago, I looked at Elisabeth's childhood as something that stretched out indefinitely before us. I identified myself as the mama of little ones, and was so comfortable in that role that I kind of assumed it would be like this forever. And right now, I'm feeling a bit of horror as I realize that this "forever" that I imagined I had with my babies is very, very far from being any kind of "forever". I worry that I haven't been looking enough at the "big picture" -- of what kind of eventual teenagers and adults I'm raising, looking only at the picture of them as little ones.

And I feel a little bit shocked that it's coming so fast, worrying about whether I savored Elisabeth's babyhood and small childhood enough. Was I on the computer too much? Did I choose to do something else over paying attention to her? I'm just painfully processing the fact that she's no longer the little one she was even two years ago. It's very hard.

So. That's where I am. Sharing handmade birthday gifts and pretties here in this space just hasn't been on my mind; I'm needing to wallow in the fact that my first baby is growing up so quickly. It's quite a thing to work through.

See you soon, though I can't guarantee what I'll be writing about.

xoxox

One year old!

Right now, I'm listening to a one-year-old girl squeal with delight as her siblings push her around in a wagon. It's hard for me to believe it's been a year since that magical morning of her birth. But here we are, a year later. I need to remember not to wish these days with my little ones away. They go too fast anyway!

This morning we enjoyed our usual birthday rituals.

Fiona was really excited about the birthday ring.

But not as excited about the crown. Despite patiently wearing hats just about every day of her life, it proved to be too much to ask. ;)

Today, we'll celebrate our littlest one all day. We'll eat her favorite foods (this week, she really likes broccoli and bananas), make her a cake (the applesauce cake from this favorite cookbook, but adapted -- with Kyrie's guidance -- to be wheat-free since we think Fiona may have reacted to wheat a few weeks ago), and open some gifts (mostly handmade, so there will be some sharing here next week!).

Happy birthday, my silly, sweet, snuggly one. I love you with all my heart.

32

This year, my birthday feels a bit anticlimactic. I mean, last year, I went to bed and then had a baby, you know? And then there's my sweater. It's oh-so-close -- just a few more sleeve inches to go, and buttons and blocking. So, I'm going to go ahead and say I finished it in time. But it's not the exciting "I'm wearing my new birthday sweater today" thing that I had hoped for -- though I'll definitely have my February sweater ready during February, at least.

Anyway, 32 isn't turning out to be the biggest birthday ever. But another year spent with my little family, living this little life of mine, and 32 beautiful, good years under my belt? Well, that's nothing to shake a stick at. And as I type this I'm thinking, 32 just has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? I think it's going to be a great year.

(and yes, that's my sweater, on me!)

At the end of the day

Today I have something very special to offer here. I wrote this post just over six months ago, on August 20, 2009 (the events described had occurred the day before). I didn't end up sharing it at the time ... I don't remember why. It was written in the midst of what was a very hard time for me. My husband had begun his school year and was writing his dissertation; I saw very little of him. I was surprised when I stumbled across this post recently, and so grateful for it in the midst of a very different time of busyness. My baby approaches a year old in just two days; and beginning with mine tomorrow, we'll celebrate four birthdays in the next six weeks. Easter and other celebrations will fall during this time, as well. I find myself once again feeling stretched. How strengthening this voice from the past -- my own! -- is to me today. It feels like a gift that I sent to myself across the months.

I'm so happy to be able to offer this post to you today, just as it was written. How funny to see that many things have changed since then -- details great and small -- and yet how I can conjure those moments of folding the towels that night.

Wednesday, August 19

The baby wakes me at 7:20 to nurse; my husband has already left for the day. I was up too late the night before, and try to coax her to fall back to sleep. She won't have any of it, and the older two are already stirring.

I get up, and make a breakfast of eggs, toast, watermelon. I change Fiona's diaper, brush my teeth, and help Elisabeth and James get into their swimming suits. We leave at 9:25. Too early for our 9:50 swimming lesson, but chairs for parents are a scarce commodity at the pool.

We're early; we have to wait for them to open the doors. It's the last session of the summer, and the 9:00 classes didn't fill, so ours is the first class of the morning.

I have to laugh at the mad rush of parents to those 12 precious plastic chairs. I'm able to snag one today, and I'm grateful, because it's uncomfortable to sit with the baby at the awkward round picnic tables.

My children make their way to their classes. I watch Elisabeth practicing her kickboard across the deep end of the pool. Her legs and feet are so relaxed. She's a good swimmer, like me. I feel so satisfied and grateful as I watch her working hard. I look over to the shallow end and see James dunking under the water repeatedly. It took all summer, but he's found his confidence this week. The sun is sparkling on the water. This is summer.

A grandmother pulls her chair up beside me. She saw a bumper sticker on my car that sparks a long, interesting conversation. After their classes end, my children happily join their friends in the shallow end of the pool to play for a while. They both find their way back to me at about the same time.

On our way out, we run into a family we haven't seen in a couple of years. Their oldest son is Elisabeth's age, and they are also homeschooling. The mother and I have a long conversation about life, faith, gratitude. We exchange contact information, amazed at our chance meeting.

While we're changing in the dressing room, some friends are on their way in for the last lessons of the morning. My friend shows me the dress that she made for her three-year-old, her own pattern. I'm so impressed. Creativity abounds.

We come home and have last night's leftovers for lunch. Diapers are changed, swimming suits and towels are thrown into the wash, Fiona goes down for a nap. Wednesdays are my teaching day. I hurry around the house, straightening up for my students. I find myself taking joy in sweeping today, although I'm so tired and would love to lay down with the baby.

I have a full afternoon of teaching. I hadn't seen two of my students for a few weeks because of vacations. It's fun to catch up with them -- the thoughts and perspectives of preteens are enormously refreshing. I don't have help this afternoon and my kids are really wild, but surprisingly cooperative when I ask them to go play.

My husband arrives home a little bit before my last student. I'm surprised to see him, but glad when he offers to take the kids with him to the grocery store to pick up some dinner. It's already a bit late, and I hadn't started anything.

We eat dinner together as a family. It's not an idyllic meal, but there is a sense of gratitude for it -- we have so few family meals right now.

After dinner, we struggle to get the three children to sleep. It's past their bedtime and they're overtired. When they're finally down, my husband & his laptop retreat to a corner of the house to do more dissertation work, and I sit down with a movie and my knitting.

By the time the movie is over, it's almost midnight. I finish packing the swimming bag for the morning. The towels were already ready -- they were yesterday's, already dry and folded. The suits are hanging on pegs by the front door. I add a change of clothes for both children, tuck the sunscreen and goggles back into their respective pockets. As I fold the now-clean towels from today and set them aside for Friday morning, I realize that Friday is our last day of swimming lessons for the summer. It makes me a little bit wistful, knowing that I'm folding the last towels of the season. It occurs to me, as I take my vitamins, brush my teeth, and turn out the lights, that packing the swimming bag is love. It seems so simple, so obvious. But it's really love. It's one of the many small and not-so-small things that I do every day, out of love.

My life is both lonely and very full; it's both average and extraordinary. Yesterday's drudgery might be today's blessing -- or, perhaps, the other way around. It can be so easy to lose sight of these everyday blessings in the midst of hard work, a crying baby, arguing children, chaos, boredom, exhaustion, distractions. We want every day to offer an epiphany, a moment of catharsis, or peace, or contentment. But some days don't seem to offer anything at all.

Here's the secret: it's not easy. It will never be easy. It's much easier to fall into the trap of sleepwalking through these ordinary days, not realizing that, like each tree in a forest or pearl on a necklace, each one is both part of the whole, and a unique treasure of its own.

A wise friend of mine remarked recently, "The way you spend your days is the way you spend your life."

Here's to spending each day mindfully, living fully, loving with our whole hearts.

xo,
Grace

A week of awe -- day five (late)

For the final installment in this little series, I have two things that inspire awe in me.

Snow.

I'm awed by its quiet. By its gift to the landscape. The reverence that everyone seems to feel when it's crisp and white and cold and sparkling outside.

The peeks of the seasons gone by.

And of the seasons to come.

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And knitting.

The way that twisting the yarn around and over the needles, and itself, yields fabric. All different kinds of fabric. Fabric of infinite textures and styles: delicate, rugged, soft, rough, elegant, durable. Beautiful.

It's like a little miracle.

(This is my February Lady Sweater that I'm desperately trying to complete before my own birthday on Thursday.)

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What inspires awe in you today?

Thank you for playing along over the last week. It's been a good exercise for me, noticing things and cultivating awe for them. I'm finding awe a little bit more each day, here and there. It's something I need right now because I'm feeling a bit sad about my littlest one turning a year old on Friday. It's not supposed to go so fast. Sigh.

A week of awe -- day four

{There are many awesome things in this world, but I'm still searching for the awe in 24 hours spent feeling dizzy and faint. Fortunately I'm feeling better tonight. Since I'm behind a day, I will finish up the series on Monday. See you then!}

My mom says I'm an optimist because I'm always looking up -- literally -- I'm much more likely to notice cobwebs around the ceiling than dust on the floor.

I do find a great deal of inspiration and awe in the sky. It is perhaps my favorite part of the natural world, and has been since I was a very small child. And it's always right there. Whether you're peering up between skyscrapers or gazing up over the vast expanse of a prairie, the sky always has something to offer. A moment of respite from the, well, gravity of life on earth.

I love a February sky. Blue one day, gray the next. Actually, despite my complete devotion to pink, during one month of the year, gray may actually be my favorite color. Oh, those varied grays of a February sky. (I really embrace February, the month of my birth. I know many of you dread it more every year, but I really love it, so indulge me, won't you?)

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And what about you? What inspires awe in you today?

More awe in the morning

Sorry all, I'm feeling a bit sick tonight -- nothing serious, just a headache -- I so rarely get them, that when I do, I have trouble powering through. I have a post planned in my series but I'm too tired to get it all put together. See you tomorrow!

A week of awe -- day three

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.

-Albert Einstein

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For me on this Ash Wednesday, my moment of awe today was in my children's reverence at a solemn church service this afternoon.

And in this babe of mine, my little pink girl, who is still such a baby on the cusp of her first birthday.

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And you?

A week of awe -- day two

{Oops, I accidentally saved this as a draft instead of publishing last night! Sorry!}

As you probably know, I'm a classical cellist in addition to being mama to three wee ones. I do some performing, but most of my cello energies are directed toward my private studio. I love teaching lessons, I really do. But sometimes, I fall into a routine of dreading my teaching days. The house has to be cleaned, my kids need to be otherwise engaged, what if my babysitter calls in sick?, etc. Sometimes I lose sight of the amazing fact that I'm sharing a love of music with my students in favor of the annoying details of having a home studio.

This week, I was able to look past the details as I sat and listened to one of my older teen students play. I closed my eyes, the afternoon sun shining on my face, and listened as this student -- whose progress has been slow and rather inconsistent at times -- played her piece beautifully. It was a really ordinary moment, but it was also a real moment of awe, too. Just being present to witness this small transformation was a little bit of a miracle.

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What are you in awe of today?

Experiencing Awe

 The Gift of an Ordinary Day by Katrina Kenison

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know that Katrina Kenison's first book, Mitten Strings for God, is my all-time favorite. I re-read it at least once a year, or any time I'm struggling as a mama. It has been, for me, the single most influential resource in my mama-life. Now she has a new book out about the next chapter in her motherhood journey, The Gift of an Ordinary Day (excerpted above).

Anyway, today I came across Katrina's website and the above video, which is so bittersweet and lovely and so much of what this mama thing is all about. And, coincidentally, all last week I was wanting to start a series here in this space and wasn't quite sure how begin, so instead I was quiet. Katrina's words have helped me to find my own voice.

What I really want to talk about is awe. I came across something last week about children and awe -- and that awe really comes with awareness, something that children are so good at, and that adults so often struggle with. I've been wondering for a week if moments of grace, of extraordinary awareness, of connection with the divine, and with the divine in those around us -- in short, moments of awe -- just come over us or if we can cultivate them. Of course the answer to this is complicated -- but I think that it's both: yes, these exquisite moments do sometimes just come over us. But yes, too, we can cultivate them. And we should.

So, I'd like to spend this week here in this space thinking about awe. Sharing photos and words about my own quest for the extraordinary in the ordinary, the gifts of these quietly passing days.

Will you please join me? Here or in your own little spaces -- it's up to you. But let's spend some time together, here in the middle of winter, thinking about awe and reverence and wonder and being present with our families. I'm so looking forward to this week.

love,
Grace

PS: When I ask for advice, you all truly deliver! Thank you so much for your many suggestions. I have many new ideas for James's birthday, and I think you'll all be surprised by the final crown -- it's going to be different than any of the options I shared, but thanks to the advice and input and help from some of you, it's going to be absolutely LOVELY. Thank you again for being such an inspiring community! xoxox

February 3

Tonight I'm in need of some birthday opinions from you all.

*James turns four next month, and I'm stumped on a gift for him. Any suggestions? Our criteria are: nothing electronic/battery operated, nothing plastic, and probably not vehicle-related (we have so much of that already). So those of you with little guys, what are some things that have gone over well?

*Also with a four-year-old in mind: can you share some of your favorite books? We like to give one book for each birthday, and despite going over the Chinaberry catalog with a fine-tooth comb, I don't have any inspiration.

*And finally, I'm looking for opinions about colors and ribbon for Fiona's birthday crown. (You can see our other birthday crowns here to get an idea of the style I'll be making.) The main color is definitely going to be green. I'm a synesthete, and I "see" colors associated with letters, numbers, names, and people. Fiona's color (for me) is a sort of spring or apple green.

(Sorry that the color in these is kind of bad -- it's been overcast the last couple days, but hopefully you can still get an idea.)

So, I have these two greens:

The darker one is pretty much avocado and the lighter one is more toward chartreuse. I wish I had one that was really the color I had in mind, but I want to use plant-dyed felt for this project and these are the only two greens I can get, unfortunately.

And these are some possible secondary color and ribbon combinations:

This one combines the chartreuse green, a salmon orange, and a 1.25"-wide vintage ribbon that my mother-in-law gave me a couple years ago. I like this combination a lot, although the ribbon is wider than I've used before, and the combinations is not super feminine. Fiona is such a dainty baby that I do want her crown to be feminine, so I'm not sure on this one.

This one combines the avocado green, a rose pink, and a 7/8"-wide vintage ribbon that I got from Les Bon Ribbon a couple years ago. This combination is much more feminine, which I like, but I'm a bit concerned that the blue and pink ribbon doesn't coordinate with the green and pink felt very well.

This one combines the avocado green,the salmon orange, and a cute ribbon I got in New York last year. I really like this combination, but my concern with it is that the ribbon is too narrow and that it's a kind of juvenile look -- maybe she won't like it when she's older? (Like 6, 7, 8 -- in that girlie-girl phase).

This combination combines the chatreuse green, a soft violet (much softer than it looks here, but not pastel, if that makes sense), and a 7/8"-wide linen floral ribbon that was also from my trip to New York. I have all but ruled this option out. Elisabeth thinks the violet is too dark, and I feel like the ribbon looks washed out on the darker felt. I really love the ribbon, but I'm not sure it's right for this project.

This last combination pairs the avocado green and rose pink again, with the widest ribbon of all of them -- at least 1.5" wide, maybe even 2" (sorry, I don't have it nearby right now -- but it's really wide). I don't remember where I originally got this ribbon, but I've had it a long time. It's "fancier" -- with the gold in it -- which might be popular with my little girl at some point. Elisabeth doesn't like this ribbon, and I was so unenthusiastic about the ribbon on James's crown (which is sort of similar), that I'm just not sure.

OK, now it seems like I hate all these options. I'm not really that negative! It's just that I'm feeling indecisive about this -- I really want it to look beautiful! Maybe it's just that I don't like either of the green felt options and should go another direction with that. Anyway, thoughts?

::So, to recap (please don't be shy): gift for four-year-old boy? Book for four-year-old? Opinions on the crown?::

Looking forward to hearing your ideas!!

February 2

Today was the festival of Candlemas. Because we were out of town all of last week, preparing for it pretty much slipped my mind, so we just had a candlelit dinner and bedtime. Sometime later in the week, we'll make candles, too. Candlemas has never become a huge celebration in our family, but I really like the suggestions for its celebration in Mrs. Sharp's Traditions, I love to listen to this every Candlemas (it was written to be played at Candlemas). There are always small ways to mark the passing seasons, even when they are not big, fancy celebrations.

Really, I spent most of today in a quivery, trembling state, anticipating the first episode of the final season of Lost tonight. I was not disappointed -- I'm a real Lostie. It's the only television program I watch, actually. Usually our television only comes on once a week (for Lost); we've actually discussed finally removing the television from our home once the show ends. So, now you know a little detail about me that you might not have before!

February 1

Hi there. Did you think I disappeared? I wouldn't be surprised if you did. I only posted a couple of times in January. There are three real reasons for this: enjoying some quiet home time, feeling a bit of blog burnout, and having severe, and I do mean severe, computer problems. We bought our computer brand-new not 18 months ago, and already by this past summer, we were experiencing lots of problems. Currently it doesn't even turn on. It makes me tremble just to think about it, so I won't say any more here. But I did finally locate my installation disk for the camera software and can now upload photos here on the laptop (which I don't love to do because the screen is small and makes everything look alternately too dark or too washed out, but oh, well). Suffice it to say that the "what I made in 2009" post (including Christmas gifts -- two of which I'd love to eventually share here) will have to wait until I can finally access those photos again. I have been assured by my husband that they will be retrievable. Let's just pray, shall we?

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So what has been going on?

A little of this, a little of that.

It snowed.

We went out of town.

We saw this guy.

We had room service in our hotel room.

I knitted.

My baby turned 11 months, grew her first two teeth, and started crawling (I'm thankful that she's taking her time on these milestones -- with my third baby, I'm in no rush, and I'm glad she isn't, either!).

And now that we're into February, we're coming into birthday season -- beginning with mine on the 25th, four of our family's five birthdays will fall within six weeks of one another.

Much good, and a handful of challenges. Would we have it any other way?

love,

Grace

A small difference

How are you all doing? I'm quietly enjoying a bit of a break over here.

Today I want to talk a bit about Haiti, though. This week, Elisabeth came home from her class with this little lenten offering collection tin. The kids were encouraged to collect money before the beginning of Lent (coming up so soon!) to donate to the people of Haiti. We've been thinking about more ways we can help.

And if you want to help, there are lots of ways.

Some of my friends are arranging donations through etsy shops.

Look at Melissa's beautiful work here.

Craft Hope's AMAZING shop here. (One of my dolls will be in that shop soon!)

Mama to Mama is a place to check -- the sidebar has lots of links to all sorts of craftivism opportunities, and it sounds like Amanda wants to do something for Haiti in the near future through Mama to Mama, so check that out.

Don't forget that, as others have said in the last few days, prayer and positive energy are also very powerful. Light a candle, hold your children tight, live your life in a conscious way.

And remember that many charities are in need -- if doing something right now for the people of Haiti doesn't happen for one reason or another, there are so many other things you can do to help people in need all over the world, and there will still be need when you're able to contribute -- financially, creatively, or otherwise. (We are working on some dresses for this organization, for example.)

Anyway, I know the blogs are all abuzz over this -- but we mothers can, and do, make differences all the time. We can make a difference right now. Please join me in doing so.

2009, a retrospective {part 1}

I hope you all are not tired of 2009 wrap-ups. I know I'm a bit late, but bear with me -- I've been so very sick for so long, it's making me feel really behind. Anyway, I have had a 2009 retrospective on the creating end of things in mind for a while now, but I still want to photograph a last couple of things, so I thought I would start with the life part. And of course there's some overlap.

January

Quiet days at home. Knitting the bunting. Visits with friends. Cooking, freezing, nesting. Sewing. Contractions. Waiting.

February

More contractions. More waiting. More knitting. Elisabeth's first sleepover (away). My blessingway. My birthday. Fiona Catherine. Bliss.

March

Holed up, insulated, babymooning. James turns three. Huge snowstorm. Snuggling on the couch with the baby and lots of wool while the others are out in it. Seedlings.

April

Stepping, ever so tentatively, out of the fog. Elisabeth turns seven. Seedlings (still). Fiona's baptism. My husband decides to finish his doctorate afterall. Dozens of tulips!

May

Going a-Maying. Enjoying our yard and gardens. Struggling to find a rhythm. Re-reading some of my favorite books. Elisabeth learns to ride a two-wheeler.

June

Peonies! Swimming lessons every morning. Fiona rolls over. Remembering to slow down. Roses.

July

Still at the pool every morning, knitting in tow. A rainy 4th of July. Camping. Sewing. Second grade workshop. Catharsis.

August

10 years! Fiona sits up. Stress. Exhaustion. Computer break (oh-so-good!). My sister's baby shower. Sewing.

September

Holding on to the last bits of summer. habit. Return to homeschooling. Apple orchard (twice), and apple pies. Classes for both children. My new niece.

October

Our belated Michaelmas celebration. Eurythmy. Knitting. Lots of snow. Hot cocoa many days. New high chair cushions, and Fiona's first solid foods. Marathon costume sewing. Jack-o-lanterns. Halloween. My favorite month.

November

NaBloPoMo. Church linens. Elisabeth's first sleepover (at home). Simplicity Parenting. Martinmas. Sweaters. Book reviews. Thinking ahead to advent and Christmas. Giving thanks. Making dolls.

December

My shop. habit (december). King Winter. Helen's baptism. Fun with family. My husband's graduation. Sickness (lots and lots of sickness). Small miracles. Late Christmas cards. Last-minute gift making. Stillness; peace; silence. The richness of tradition. Joy. 

Right now

Awed by the connections we all have: the way my life looks very much like yours, and yours like mine -- we're all in this thing, aren't we?

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Happy new year, friends. May 2010 (which I refuse to pronounce "twenty-ten", by the way) be your best yet.

My next post will be the creating retrospective. And I'd still like to share a few things that we did in December, in between all the sickness. And then it will be new material for the new year, I promise.

xo

Exactly as it is now

Sorry for my long absence from this space. It has been a whirlwind couple of weeks, with sickness, making, celebrating, and living. I'll get to more of that in the coming days. But for today, I have something different I want to share.

I was talking to my wise friend Meghan today, and she made this comment: "This moment will never be exactly as it is now." So true. There's so much to hold onto in these days with our small ones. There is an art to this -- to recognizing that every moment, whether happy or sad or angry or just ordinary, is magical in its uniqueness. These moments that make up our lives come and go -- they're so fleeting. And somehow a few of them will stand out in the course of a life, memories that never fade. What would it be like if every moment was like that? Fully lived, remembered, treasured?

These pictures are from today's very ordinary afternoon. My older two children were outside playing in the snow, and I was trying to get Fiona down for her nap. I looked at her and thought about how she will never again be as she was in that moment: exactly that chubby, exactly that pink, exactly that combination of curious, sleepy, content, busy. She will never be exactly 10 months and 4 days, ever again.

I made a choice at that moment, to love it, just as it was. Not to get sentimental and bittersweet about it, but to just live it. Fiona and Mama, this afternoon, laying down for a nap.

Just exactly as we were.

sick, sick, sick

Sorry, no regular post today. I am really, really, really sick. Hopefully things will improve by tomorrow. My energy today was just ... gone. You know how it is -- it's hard enough to keep a family running when you're sick, let alone editing photos and writing. I do have some stuff to share with you, some fun projects we've done lately -- so, soon, I hope. Fingers crossed for tomorrow.

Quick Announcement

Hi all, thank you so much for your lovely congratulations on the attainment of the doctorate! It has been a long (almost 10-year) road for us, and we feel so relieved -- and elated -- to be finished with it! Much more celebrating to come this week, I'm sure. (Plus it's someone's forty-something birthday next week, so lots of celebrating there, too!)

Anyway, we're back and settled, but I'm terribly sick. I wanted to let you all know that if you've been debating on buying something from my shop, that tomorrow will be the very last day. I'll be taking the shop down after tomorrow to accomodate holiday shipping. So, take a look! I'm not sure if I'll re-list any of the items at a later time -- I'm thinking not, at least for the dolls. So this really will be it! Thanks again for all of your encouragement, enthusiasm, and support of my little venture.

See you in this space, for something entirely different, tomorrow!

'Tis the Season

We tend to decorate fairly gradually throughout advent. We like to spread it out as much as possible.

Pretty well set up is our piano top, which has been acting as our primary seasonal table for quite a while now.

(The Santa teacup candle and red berry wreath are awaiting a more permanent home.)

We've been collecting Fontanini nativity figures since we got married. It's one of my favorite things. I love that it's beautiful and classic-looking, while being OK for the kids to handle. My mom adds a new piece for us each year. Sometimes we get one to commemorate an important event (the birth of a child, etc.), but often it's just one that we like or want.

Last year we got this little spinner because Elisabeth had learned to knit. She's my favorite.

Today, we got our Christmas tree, enjoyed a bit of nog, and this weekend, we're off to my husband's graduation! Lift a glass for him if you think of it. I'll be back here in the first part of next week. (Unless, you know, my computer crashes again.)

love,
Grace

Gingerbread

Gingerbread people are so good in so many ways, don't you think?

Those made from felt and rick rack are especially nice on t-shirts.

The tiny one was kind of a challenge -- she's just an inch high, and I should have hand-sewed her to the shirt rather than machine-sewed, because it was tricky. Oh, well!

Everything is good as long as we have matching gingerbread people shirts.

Edited to add: Lands End carries some pants similar to the ones you see on Fiona, here.