Tales of Me and the Husband - Page 136 of 207 -

May 8, 2012

lately.

the latest happenings as recorded in these pictures?

let’s see…

parker stands now (!!) // lindsey hanging out before bedtime // a pouf i got at tjmaxx ($35!)

walks to pass the day // and books too // william in our toy tunnel

lindsey showin’ her tude // my friend laura antiquing

and laura meeting parker // parker’s aversion to grass (still going strong)

and that’s about it.

May 7, 2012

it creeps up on me, sometimes, that nostalgia does. in a song or a memory or a meal. there’s no telling when it’ll interrupt the normal, sometimes harried, pace i’m going and force me to stop and, with a bit of an achy heart, remember what was. it sounds sad, doesn’t it? why is nostalgia like that? is it just that the passage of time lets us know we’re not infinite? (i don’t think this is it.) is it because i want to be back there in those days that are now a memory? (i don’t think this is it, either.) is it just that it’s a memory, probably a good one, that just lets you know that life moves. that even this moment, the present one, will be something you’ll be nostalgic for later on. (getting closer, i think.)

well, this is taking a bit of a deeper turn than i thought it would.

but anyway, nostalgia. i married a nostalgic man and i am a somewhat nostalgic woman. we remember our past and those people in it, mostly with a happy heart. it keeps us grateful, i think. i mean, if you are actively nostalgic (actively nostalgic? what am i even saying?) then won’t it force you to be grateful for the people and times when you’re in them? nostalgic people don’t like regrets, i think. right?

again, i’m not sure where this is going but it’s getting deeper still!

sometimes (well, not so much anymore as these days i am drifting off as soon as my head hits the pillow) as i fell asleep, i used to walk myself through the halls and rooms of my old house. every creak in the floorboard, every window and each curtain covering it, every groove of the kitchen counter tile. i remember it so well. this shouldn’t surprise me. i lived in it from birth till college. i don’t know what this serves me, this memory walk-through that i do, but i do it anyway. in this house i watched dr. quinn medicine woman on friday nights, ate cereal or dad’s banana french toast on sunday mornings. in this house i got ready for every dance from the cotillion to my senior prom. in this house i went climbing up the sides of the bathtub, slipped, and cracked open my chin (i was four!). in this house i experienced childhood, my teen years, and the college application process. this house and the people that lived in it hold much of what i’m nostalgic for. inside its walls is where so much of the memory-making took place.

i miss it.

well, i guess this is where i got.

May 4, 2012

Nature vs. Nurture.

Elizabeth and I were talking nature vs. nurture the other day over e-mail. Our e-mails are not always this heavy. In fact, more often than not, they’re me asking her some blogger HTML question which she undoubtedly has the answer for. Or sending her a picture of something I pinned saying, “Um, like, is this easy to sew? Could I do this?” And she’ll encourage me saying, “Yes! And here’s a quickie how-to.”

I haven’t sewn yet.

This particular e-mail thread was nature and nurture and what does it all mean? This is a question I’ve thought of a million times and talked through with my sisters, with Steve, now with Elizabeth too.

Which is bigger? Which takes precedence over the other? Can we do everything right with our babies and yet still have nature screw us over?

I have three older sisters. The two oldest are only 18 months apart. Thus, you could argue that they were raised and disciplined and nurtured and loved nearly the same way at the same time by the same parents. They are so different though. Another example – Nathaniel and Jordan. Close in age. Same parents. Same upbringing, same time period. So different.

There’s not an easy answer. Try as I might to find one, I don’t think I will. A kid with the shittiest of upbringings can turn out to be valedictorian, the kid with loving parents who doted on him can turn out to be the drug-addict.

(I can’t come up with an example of nurture winning out. I mean, they exist. It’s just impossible to prove.)

Back to nature winning out, if this is the case, then we should probably get off the back of the Mom who’s toddler-son is a little hellion on the playground. Cause, ya know, he was born that way. No amount of nurture is gonna change him.

(But no! We will surely judge her, won’t we? Lack of discipline! No boundaries!)

(And for the record, I’d be right there with you, shaking my head and assuming the role of judger.)

NATURE? NURTURE? WHICH IS IT?

I turned out okay (I mean, I think I turned out better than okay, but at the risk of tooting my own horn here I’ll say ‘okay’). Loving parents? Check. A solid household? Check. My needs met? Check. So, I turned out okay because they did things right or because I was born with the brain I have?

Maybe it’s 50/50?

How much does nurture matter? I want to believe it matters a lot. So badly. Of course – because this is what I have control over. I want to believe that the love I have for my kids is shaping them to be loving adults who don’t seek acceptance in the wrong places but always know that my arms are a safe place to return to, to talk things through, to feel validated.

Psh. I guess we’ll never know. I’ll still try to get the nurture part down though.

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May 2, 2012

it’s the little things…

+ when parker gives me a huge hey-mom-i-missed-you smile when i go to get him after a nap
+ when steve randomly buys me a vogue magazine for road trip reading
+ when i get a card in the mail (the real mail!)
+ when i get vacuuming done and can see no gracie-hair on the floor (which lasts about five minutes)
+ when i plan and execute dinners before 6:00 at night
+ when william comes down in the morning genuinely psyched to see parker and me in the computer room
+ when lindsey makes up songs complete with lyrics and sings them to me
+ when i have plans, fun ones, to look forward to
+ when i discover that i’ll see my family five of the next six months
+ when steve and i have a romantic evening without even leaving the house
+ when a nail polish job lasts more than a few days (hours, let’s be serious) without chipping

it’s the little things…

agreed?

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May 2, 2012

go big or go home: on trying to plan an epic trip

so, every handful of years, steve (potentially) gets a sabbatical. i mean, i say potentially because he has to have a big plan – like a project he’ll complete – in mind, complete with a fancy proposal. they’re not just giving away vacations here, people! last time, he got a book published. vacation, it was not. i think i saw less of him while on it then i do when he’s teaching normal hours. the next one is still a few years away. but you can bet that i’m dreaming up ideas for it all the time. we talk about it – the logistics, the finances, the where-to-go’s and the how-long-we’ll-stay’s – from time to time. it’s hard putting too many eggs in that sabbatical basket though because it’s a few years into the future and, who knows what will happen. we’ve talked greece, we’ve talked road trip. i’d love to do both but now i’m just gettin’ greedy.

do we rent our house? do we look into a home exchange? do we do an RV – used or new? is it worth it to buy one and then turn around and sell it when we’re done instead of hotels for months on end (this seems like a big, fat ‘yes’ though i’m sure they’re seriously pricey… and then, gas to make it go of course. still, i can’t imagine living from hotel to hotel for months)? what would homeschooling william and lindsey on the road look like (they’ve been homeschooled before as well as their older brothers, so this one is do-able)? where should we go? would greece be way more affordable in the long run and way more awesome?

and most importantly, do they sell seventh generation diapers in greece?

(any input? bring it.)

May 1, 2012

boston in hipstamatic.

main man steve has thursdays off. sometimes he does other stupid work on those days. sometimes he doesn’t. last thursday, parker and i managed to nab him for a few hours and head into boston. we’re glad we did. we had burgers at the paramount, walked the charles, headed into downtown crossing, went to an old book shop, met up with rachael, had coffee at bella vita, toured boston’s gorgeous athenaeum (thanks to rachael’s membership!), and then attempted (but sadly failed) to get cinnamon-sugar dusted fried parsnips at the clover food truck on the common. next time clover, next time.

are you from boston? have you been to boston? you like it here? (you hate it here?) i want some answers.

April 27, 2012

Some Friday ramblings: on historic New York City, summer sandals, and chocolate chip cookies.

I saw this article on Twitter. I’m fascinated by big cities and the stories they hold and NYC is one that really holds my fascination. The love affairs! The murders! The architecture! The food! DO THE MOLE PEOPLE REALLY EXIST? Anyway, this series of pictures from Depression-era (and older!) NYC are really cool (that’s where I grabbed the picture above).

I’m on a search for a good summer sandal. And, while we’re at it, a new bikini. Any recommendations? On the sandal front, I tried this one (turquoise!) but they were too wide (blast my narrow foot!). I like this one (nude and pink!), and this one (in a classic black, I think) too. Steve Madden’s killin’ it this season.

This is a pretty summer skirt. Pleated! Maxi! Navy blue!

This NY Times article called “The Flight From Conversation” is really compelling. It speaks to my whole living-off-the-grid thing. I mean, making Siri more advanced so she can actually become a friend?! What is this world coming to? If you don’t actually read the article, here’s a good quote from it: “We think constant connection will make us feel less lonely. The opposite is true. If we are unable to be alone, we are far more likely to be lonely. If we don’t teach our children to be alone, they will know only how to be lonely.” But really, you should just read it. We need more people fighting this fight (is it a fight?).

In keeping with that, Sam shared the sweetest idea with me. A relative of hers is in film-making and has begun making these sweet little films for kids, by kids. Basically, as a mother, she wasn’t loving all the junk you find on TV (hear, hear!). Here’s a little snippet in Sam’s words: “really great, really pure grassroots-type of small films for kids that teach a moral lesson.” Watch this five-minute film. Even if you don’t donate money to the cause, it’s so incredibly precious. And, if you feel so moved, continue onto this page to give a dollar (or more!).

I’m trying to sort of make this pin and this pin come to life in our upstairs bathroom. So far? One crate.

So apparently this is the best chocolate chip cookie of all the chocolate chip cookies in all the land. I really have my doubts. I mean, I really love the recipe on the chocolate chip bag. In fact, I really love nearly any homemade chocolate chip cookie. So, is 36 hours wait time gonna be worth it? We’ll see. I think I’ll tackle these soon. You’ll hear from me if it was all a big scam.

That’s it. What’d I miss? Give me the latest.

April 26, 2012

baked berry oatmeal.

you know those times when you come across a breakfast and think to yourself, “ok, this could be in some really quaint vermont bed and breakfast. the kind where the owners are some sweet old couple, probably high-school sweethearts, and they’ve perfected a cup of steaming hot coffee and there’s a big porch sweeping across the front of the house that overlooks foggy mountains and misty lakes and you sit there by the hour and they bring you this plus that perfect cup of coffee?” no? you don’t think like that? i do. and this breakfast could be served in that sweet little in-my-imagination bed and breakfast. it’s chewy and sweet but not too sweet (and not too chewy either). it’s really good and it’s a keeper in my house. i first had it when my mom made it. we all raved, so she shared the recipe. thanks, mom!

baked berry oatmeal

serves 6-8

2 1/2 cups regular rolled oats

1/2 cup steel cut oats

2 tsp baking powder

1/2 t salt

1/2 t ground cinnamon

2 cups milk

1 egg beaten

1/3 cup applesauce

1/2 cup oil (i used coconut oil)

1/4 cup honey

1/4 cup brown sugar

2 cups fresh or frozen strawberries

for garnish

(and one of the best parts in my opinion–don’t skip it!)

strawberry jam, warmed

plain yogurt, greek or regular

preheat oven to 400 degrees. in large bowl, stir together rolled oats, steel cut, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon. set aside. in medium bowl combine milk, egg, apple sauce, oil, honey, and brown sugar. add to oat mixture and stir until combined. it’ll be really wet but will become much more casserole-like in the oven. pour into greased 2-quart souffle or casserole dish. bake for 20 minutes. remove from oven, stir mixture, and mix in berries. bake for another 20 minutes or until lightly browned. spoon into bowls. serve with a dollop of yogurt and warm jam on top (mixed together).

it’s pretty hearty and stays with you for awhile too. thanks steel cut oats!