SortaCrunchy

every mama crow

One time, Laura and I were discussing Instagram - my very, very favorite iPhone app. If every other app for iPhone was terrible, I would still have an iPhone. For Instagram alone. I love it so. Anyway, I was telling Laura that sometimes my IG feed is a little ... same ol' same ol' ... because it seems like many of the people I follow on there just post pics of their kids all day.

Directly after that, I started posting pictures of my kid. All day.

Long before Facebook when parents were forced to use face-to-face conversation to brag on their kids (I MEAN, can you even?), my grandmother used to smile knowingly and say, "every mama crow think her babies are the blackest."

I have pretty much stepped right into that truth and rolled around in it.

Both of my girls are so, so precious to me. But there's something about knowing that in a few short (too, too short) months, Aliza Joy is headed to pre-K has made me miserably nostalgic. I snap photos of her and take videos of her and tell stories about her and laugh about her all day.

I find myself constantly surprised by how like me she is, and I can't get enough of it. She lasted five minutes in our recent paltry showing of snow and she was ready to come inside. As it turns out, my snow grinch genes did land in one of my own.

She can be inexplicably shy around others, but she has so many words when it's the two of us. Something about riding in the car unleashes a torrent of conversation that is so voluminous, I struggle to keep up:

"Mama, dogs don't have whiskers. Is there such thing as a dog fish? Oh by the way, I saw a dog in our backyard yesterday and I think he was a golden retriever. Mmm hmmm. I think he was. And he was sniffing. And is it time to pick up Dacey yet? And do we have church tonight? And oh by the way ..."

And everything is yesterday or tomorrow or last night. And she know has mastered the usage of Seriously?

She's my shadow and my errand runner and my around-the-house helper and as much as she loves her mama, she is SUCH the Daddy's Girl, too. When Kyle was on a retreat for four days last week, she cried big, heavy, sad little tears every single day that he was away.

I know every parent does this. I know everyone looks at their children and they think, "This one. She is something. She is really something special." And certainly I feel that way about both of my girls. There something about Aliza Joy, though, that scares me. Almost like she is too much for this world. I can really freak myself out if I travel too far down that path, so I just try to savor it all.

The up at 6:15 AM sharp every morning.

The perplexing resistance to peanut butter.

The three-times-a-day outfit changes.

The fussing over her hair until it looks just right. (She's FOUR, you know.)

The hilarious turns of phrase and pronunciations of words. Well, it's complicated, she likes to say.

The way she insists on singing and prayers every single night, and how after I pray over her, she lays perfectly still with eyes closed, smile on her face, afraid to move as if some kind of magical spell will be broken if she does.

Oh that AJ. That Joyful Joy.

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then four

I'm jumpin up, I'm one day old

and I'm jumpin up, I'm two days old

I'm jumpin up, I'm three days old

and I'm jumpin up, I'm four days old

One day I'll be

a year

then I'll be two

then three

then four.

But as for now, I'm jumpin up, I'm five days old and no days more.

 

Thank you, Laurie Berkner, for knowing how it is.

Happy Four to our Joyful Joy. Birth story here.

Small Style: Sunshine on Clouds

For days (weeks?), we've prayed for rain.  Spring raised a sunny banner over thirsty, cracked ground here on the southern plains.  This week, the skies broke loose a bit and relented with relief.  A little, not enough, but some.

If there is one thing AJ loves, it's mud and puddles.  (Well, also dinosaurs.)  She also loves loves loves dressing up and insists on choosing her clothes daily.  As always, this is in stark contrast to her sister, who truly could not care any less about her outfit of the day.  Dacey wants to be a vet when she grows up; AJ wants to be a "clothes maker who also makes costumes."

I'm joining in with Small Style hosted by Mama Loves Papa for the first time today, and I hope you will be as entertained as I am by the get-ups - excuse me - outfits that Aliza Joy creates.

This is perfectly appropriate for puddle stomping and rock skipping, right?

sweatshirt: Target; t-shirt dress (underneath): not sure; pants:Target; rain boots: Payless

And for running errands with Mama:

dress: Jenny & Me (Big SIster hand-me-down); pants: Hanna; sunglasses: Tangled/WalMart

Dacey would rather me take pictures of her multitudinous art projects, but I did manage to snap this before church yesterday evening:

cardigan: Target (years ago, I think it's a 4T!); t-shirt dress: WalMart; pants: Target; barefeet: Mama's Influence

And Little sister at the same meal:

dress: The Children's Place (Dacey hand-me-down, years ago); pants: Target; shoes: Payless

As you may have notices, I've been in a bit of a creative slump lately.  Thinking about and grabbing shots for Small Style injected some enthusiasm into my veins this week.  I'm happy to be playing along.

 

and so we sat

The screen door slams again and I'm a flurry of black garbage bags and big blue bins and boxes.  Out, out, out.  It's our mantra and our rallying cry and it takes work and follow-through and focus to get this thing done.  I'm making haste while that glorious sun shines and I'm loading the car to haul off that which will be recycled and that which will be donated and that which will be given away.  And I'm filling up the garbage cans in the alley again.

She's playing on the back porch steps, oblivious to my work.  Doing the work of childhood.  A mess of tangled blondie curls falls to the middle of her back.  Long gone are the perky ringlets that fringed the nape of her neck when she was little little.  I'm dashing and dodging her when she crosses my flight path and she's drawing with sidewalk chalk.

I've made my last trip to the alley, and she says, "Mama, today is a good day for sitting."

I open my mouth to argue, to make a case for focusing on the task at hand, to remind her three year old self that Mama is busy, but she's patting the concrete step, showing me the space next to her, there in the sun.

And so I sit.

It is a good day for sitting. 

Yep.

I hold her like a baby, and she giggles.

When did her hair get so long?  When did her eyes turn so brown?  When did her little hands become so elegant, so very not babylike?

The sun feels good on our faces.

And sitting feels good.

You Tell Me: Homeschool Preschool

First, a note: I'm still playing nurse to a sick chick.  Dacey officially has the flu.  Ugh.  Additionally, her birthday party is planned for Saturday morning, so we are crossing our fingers that it will happen, and we are hurriedly throwing all of our time and energy into intense labor on the oasis project to prepare - at the very least - the downstairs for guests on Saturday.

If you have emailed in the past week or so, there's a pretty good chance I haven't responded.  I'll get there! 

In the meantime, I need to ask you all about something that I've been turning over in my mind:

What can you tell me about doing a homeschool approach to preschool?

As many of you know, Dacey did preschool (Pre-K) in public school last  year and is on the same early childhood campus for kindergarten this year.  She loves it.  Loves it with a capital L-O-V-E.  Her temperament and personality fit wonderfully with the public school classroom (she loves rules and order and consistency and worksheets and incentive systems).

We have a different situation with Aliza Joy though.  First of all, she is an early September birthday, which means she officially misses the cut-off for starting Pre-K next fall.  There is a small liberal arts university in our town that offers a wonderful preschool program five days a week, mornings only.  We're looking into that for AJ for several reasons, not the least of which being that she has been desperately wanting to "go to school" since the first day I dropped Dacey off for Pre-K, and we are quite sure she would love it.

On the other hand, AJ is much more of a free-spirit than her big sister.  Much. More. Free.

Through the years I've read blogs and articles on homeschooling, and I have to say my teacher heart has always been drawn to it.  I have to think this "extra year" we get at home with her because of when her birthday falls might be a gift for the two of us - a time that could be rich with learning and experience.

So, you tell me - what advice/resources/direction would you recommend?  Montessori?  Waldorf?  Classical?  Eclectic? 

She's an extremely extroverted child who loves to interact with other kids.  She's not incredibly interested in art and has a pretty short attention span at this point.  Granted, she is only three.  She loves to be outdoors and has lots and lots of big energy.  She gets bored easily, and when she is bored, we have trouble.  She's incredibly naturally athletic and is pretty much just a firecracker all the way around.

I would love to hear any thoughts or suggestions you might have.  And even if I don't get the chance to email back a response to comments on this, please know I am reading and treasuring your collective wisdom!

photo by Minimalist Photography

A Portrait in Compromise

This is my second child.  Parenting her is one long exercise in the art of compromise.  Each day, both of us decide which hill we will die upon that day, and which matters we are willing to let go.

Por ejemplo.  In the picture above, you can see that she is wearing a very floofy, flouncy pink dress.  It is from our dress-up trunk.  She wanted to wear it to run errands.  Okay.  But.  You have to wear a sweater and pants, too.  A deal was made.  Shoes were added.  Everyone was happy.

Why do I bring this up?

Here's the thing.  We have been having some incredible discussions lately about intentional living, choosing less consumption, thoughtful living.  Powerful stuff.  Great conversation.

At the same time, in the coming weeks I am going to be sharing with you some things that I feel really good about recommending.  Things that cost money.  Ways to spend money.  And all of that relates back to being a consumer of these things that I am telling you about.

Okay.  But.

It's a compromise of sorts, you see. 

I read lots of pitches and am extended quite a few invitations to promote stuff to y'all.  I want to assure you again that the things I talk about here, the products and ideas and whatever that I share with you, all of it has to pass my internal filter of whether or not it's worth it, whether or not it's valuable, whether or not it meets my ever-rising standards.

I just want you to know that I won't waste your time or my space sharing anything with you that doesn't fall in line with my values.  I know everyone is posting gift guides and wish lists and all that kind of stuff this time of year, and perhaps you are already filtering most of this out.  And that's a good thing, I think!  When you see recommendations and promotions coming in the coming weeks, you can know I have put a lot of thought into what to share. 

Just like I now have to go put a lot of thought into how to find a common ground between gingerbread men or scrambled eggs for breakfast.  Hmmmm.

this moment: sisters

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

(see more moments at SouleMama)

Cynthia Rowley has got nothing on cute (at least where diapers are concerned)

Hip. Trendy. Stylish.

These are three words I can promise you that would never be used to describe me.  I subscribe to three magazines : Time, Mothering, and Hobby Farm Home.  If you wanna discuss planting fall squash, natural cures for colic, or the latest Joel Stein column, I can probably hold my own.  If you wanna talk about the latest trends and newest styles, I will probably respond with a polite smiles and head nods that clearly signal my utter ignorance on the topic.

(I seriously didn't know who/what Paul Frank was until that whole Twitter thing happened.)

Thankfully, I can count on friends to keep me sorta in the loop.  For example, this week Gretchen at Lifenut mentioned that Cynthia Rowley will be designing diapers for Pampers.  I suppose that this is their attempt to one-up Huggies and their denim diaper release.  Gretchen noted that she isn't going to shell out more money for "paper madras," and I can't say that I blame her.  They might be cute, but they are destined to become landfill filler.  Cute landfill filler, but it's trash all the same.

this is us: preserving summer mornings

 

I cannot even tell you with words known to mankind how much I love summer.

Yeah, yeah.  It's hot.  And if I didn't live in the luxury of an air-conditioned house and an air-conditioned car that shuttles me back and forth from one air-conditioned shelter to another, I am sure I would sing a different song.

But because I do live in the luxury of protection from the hot, I am free to indulge in all of the coat-free, sock-free, shiver-free, icy-wind-that-takes-your-breath-away-free goodness that is summer. 

O Pioneers!

The next town over had a little Pioneer Days event today.

We
admired handwork

 

  and animal pelts