Yard work

We planted a blueberry bush, some peppers, tomatoes and brussels sprouts. Joseph's choice of seeds. Between you, me and the squirrels, I am uncertain if we will ever get to eat any of it, but I am hopeful!

At the table

Recently a new blog was recommended to me, and I love reading many of the post. Emily over at a Beautiful Life, challenges us to pay attention the the family meal, make it a sacred moment in our days.
I am not certain if I could post something at the moment that would fit the wonderful example. But we do strive to make the family meal a special and God honouring time. Of course being me, I will have to mention the challenges as well. Challenges like.. having children actually sit down at the meal.
But let's not start with that. Let's start with the meal itsself. We eat as a family in the evening, all together around the table. For a while we let things go and ended up eating in the living room together, but it just felt wrong. Besides, we ended up watching tv while eating instead of spending time really together.
Now the big challenge for me is that both of my children are very young, and very active. Joseph is three and a half, and time to sit still is, in his opinion, wasted time. Unless he is playing with his trains, I guess. Michael just turned one, so the main challenge is to make sure he eats and does not just toss all the food on the floor, while squeeling for his cup. While Michael eats just about anything, Joseph is going through a phase in which five bites is about
I used to have visions of wonderfully balanced conversations around the dinner table in which we all tell about our days and talk about edifying things. At the moment, dinner conversation is a litany of 'please sit down, sweetie." "Joseph, please wait till your mouth is empty before speaking." While either my husband or I need to get up three or four times a meal, no matter how many things we try and put on the table, trying to anticipate the children's needs.
On the other hand... if I did not go through these training years now, how big is the chance that when they turn twelve, I can turn around and say; "Okay, from now on we will all spend family time sitting and eating serenely together" and I can expect them to have table manners, inteligent conversation, and a desire to spend the time with us?

So, at this young age, we muddle through. We pray before mealtimes, in English and in Dutch. The prayers are short, but by now my oldest son knows them, and my youngest son recognizes them. Dada asks questions to Joseph, like: so what did you do today? The answers are commonplace, since our days are simple. We went to the grocery store. To the park. We played with the sand. And I provide humourous comments, by filling in the details.
While I love beautiful tablecloths and candlesticks, right now they would form another challenge to stop the children from pulling it, spilling tomato sauce on it before the first bite has been taken and an extra temptation for me to get upset at not having my quiet haven of well behaved conversation and serene prayer.
Before I get there, I believe I need to go through this phase of family meal time with training wheels on. We see progress, as we manage to keep our oldest boy at the table longer each day. We do not squabble anymore about whether he wants to eat what is on his plate. He will eat it or not, but not receive anything else. It's a challenge at the moment, but I hope that in a few years, I will be able to savour the fruit of our mealtime prayers, admonitions not to speak with the mouth full, and homecooked meals, in having a family happily gathered around the table, talking, praying and celebrating meals together.

Two new embroidery projects

One is a little cribsheet (not the fitted sheet, but a light replacement for a receiving blanket.) The second one will be a baptismal garment.

Art

As I mentioned earlier, until a few days ago, I did not even own a paintbrush. My childhood 'trauma's' over any attempt to draw or paint are pretty convincing that I have absolutely no talent in this area. And it is true, I probably do not, but I do not need talent to have some fun with my little boy, and to try my hand at something new and intriguing. I have always envied people who could draw or paint, or sketch. Part of it might be that I grew up with someone who was and is an amazing artist, while I couldn't even draw a stick figure.

Still, I am going to try and let perfectionism go and enjoy my little paintbrush and my little figures. And if they do not end up like the art of this talented gentleman, with a bit of practice, I can probably get something recognizable.

If you are looking for an original Saint's day gift, a special Easter keep sake, or -looking forward- a one of a kind nativity, go have a look at:
StLukesbrush over at etsy: http://www.etsy.com/shop/StLukesBrush?ref=pr_shop

Starting Saints

Jessica, over at Shower of Roses inspired me a while ago to try and make some wooden saints. Only, I never dared to do it, because.. let's be honest, I don't even OWN a paint brush, that's how bad I am at crafts that do not include working a fine needle. Still, they looked so cute. When in my local craft store, I happened to come across these two little wooden, unpainted dolls, I just had to buy them. And a sampler set of paint. And three paint brushes.
Yesterday, in a few unguarded minutes, I painted the mantel and veil on one of them. Joseph and I did the face together on the second one, with both of our hands holding the marker. Today he wants to try his hand at the paint. I need to squelch my inner perfectionist on that one, and just let him!

Wedding dresses.. longing for beauty.

No, this is not another excuse to post some more pictures of my wedding dress. (Though I admit, I am tempted.) But while visiting Mrs. Beguiles' wonderful blog again today, it struck me how many women jumped at the chance of sharing their wedding gown. Of course I do not know most of the ladies who, like me, responded with their picture of beauty and romance, but in general they seemed happily married women, not longing back to retrace a 'princess for a day' experience. Yet there is something... appealing about the subject of wedding dresses. Our own, but also those of others. I can only speak for myself, but I think the sheer beauty of the gown we selected is something we keep looking back at, and something perhaps that we miss in our day to day lives.
When you ask many moms what they love to wear, their answer is: "Oh, as long as it is comfortable" "Oh, as long as I can chase the kids in it." We don't want fuss. We don't want feathers. We want to be comfortable and do our jobs as mothers. And while we may have a few dresses, 'gowns' are so inpractical. Would you want a baby to spit up on your wedding dress? How would you clean apple sauce off the floor wearing all white? And... what would people say if they saw us all dressed up like some opera star when we were just running to the supermarket? It's not practical. It's not realistic. And yet...

There is that little corner in the minds of many of us that longs for something else. How many times have you looked at a site with Regency patterns and thought it would be wonderful to wear one of those dresses tomorrow. But you can just see yourself in the post office. Where would you put the sippy cups? The diapers? And you just know that as soon as you would put on that one.. special.. dress it will have to go in the laundry ten minutes after you put it on. Wearing a dress like that is... like an invitation for the stomach flu, right?

I wonder. I can't help myself but wonder. I look at what I am wearing as I sit here, typing. Not a regency dress. Not sweats either. Maybe I fall somewhere in the middle. My top is pretty, and elegant. Black with long sleeves and some style in the way it is cut. My skirt... well.. it used to be one of my favorites. But now it is tired. And slightly frayed and faded. It is a long skirt though, with a pretty, modern floral pattern, but if I am honest, it is not the gown I want to wear.
Something inside me still longs for the medieval style dress that I wore as my wedding dress. Maybe not in ivory silk. Maybe not with a veil. But a nice green flax, or cotton, or wool.. that should be doable, right? Women used to wear these clothes all the time and often had a much more physical life than I. More children than I.
Maybe the crinoline of the fifties is calling. Maybe you prefer to think of the empire waist of regency gowns. Maybe like Anne of Green Gables, you long for puffed sleeves. But I challenge you, as I challenge myself, to bring some of those desires in your life and your wardrobe.
We don't all have to walk around in costumes, but... with a litle bit of searching on this thing called the interent, we can come pretty close to dressing the style we actually want. And if someone spills applesauce on it? Well, most dresses will wash. Just as those yoga pants do.

Ouch...

Yes, that is a seriously swollen, slightly mangled looking hand. War wounds. But I display them gladly and gratefully, because I may have preserved my little boy from much worse.
Our doorbell has these four long chime pipes. Joseph loves to play with them. I had him on my hip to comfort him because he was dissapointed at not having earned a treat. The moment I urged him to be gentle, he pulled way too hard and the heay casing on top came crashing down.. towards where Michael was playing on the floor. Mother's instinct kicked in and smashed my hand into it as it was hurling down to deflect it. Got hit in the hand by two of the sharp points. Michael cried because he was startled, but considering the hole in my hand from higher up, it might have given him a serious hole in the head if it had landed on him.