A Quick Photographic Fix

When I started keeping this blog back in February of last year, I hoped that it would encourage me to craft more and to write more. And it has definitely done both of those things. What I didn't anticipate is that it would also encourage me to take lots and lots of photographs of our daily life. I realized the other day that I have taken 6 times as many pictures just in the last year as I did in my first 5 years of motherhood put together! And while I think it's important to find a balance between documenting a moment and living a moment, I'm so glad that I have so many visual memories from the past year. I do not bring my camera everywhere with me, by any means, but I do think having the blog has inspired me to take pictures of things that I wouldn't otherwise notice or think were worth remembering: the kids painting, or making sushi, or playing with their toys. I love being able to look through our digital photo albums and remember these simple, real-life moments.

a literary potty moment

snack time

the guinea pig maze
(from when Luke and Jaz's class pets came to visit)

walking to the car, post-soccer game

Most of these pictures don't make it to the blog, and they don't make it anywhere else either. A couple of weeks ago, I was struck by the fact that we didn't have any pictures of our family hanging on the walls in our house, and that I was the only one getting to appreciate this recent increase in photographic documentation. So I took advantage of some great post-holiday/new year sales, and ordered some prints for our walls from an online photo shop.

For a long time, I've wanted to have a few large prints on canvas, so I made 3 using some of my favorite pictures from the past year. They turned out really well (especially considering that the photos didn't have quite high enough resolution to be blown up so big).


I also made a poster collage by selecting 23 photos from the last 12 months that I felt provided a good representation of all of the seasons and many of the best memories. Because the online photo shop was having a special sale on anything calendar-related, I decided to make a calendar poster collage. Once it arrived, I just trimmed off the calendar part, and the collage fit perfectly into a 10" x 20" frame. It was a very quick and easy way to frame several photos at once.

We all love the end result, but no one is more pleased with it than Zeben. He studies it carefully, going from picture to picture, pointing out who is who and what everyone is doing.

I hung the framed collage in the playroom, at Zeben's height so that he can continue to enjoy these snapshots of the past year.


I'm so glad that some of my photographs are getting put to good use, and that our walls are finally displaying some of our best memories in picture form. It may even become a yearly tradition to add more.

10 Fingers, 10 Toes

This post could alternately be called, "Adventures in Getting to the Ultrasound Appointment." We woke up this morning to discover that a thick layer of ice had coated yesterday's 6 inches of snow. The minivan was frozen shut. Anticipating that it might take some time to get it going, I started clearing it off earlier than I normally would. After 1/2 an hour of shoveling and scraping, I loaded Luke and Jaz in (Zeb's nursery school had a two-hour delay due to the road and sidewalk conditions), and attempted to pull out of the driveway. No go. The car hardly budged at all. 10 more minutes of shoveling, and I tried again. Still no movement. I went inside and got Lena to come out and help me. She pushed, I pushed, we tried putting towels behind the wheels . . . still nothing. Lena decided that sand might help and started digging for the kids' sandbox, which was underneath about 18 inches of snow and ice. Luckily, she found the right spot, and we managed to retrieve a pail full of sand to put behind the tires. Unluckily, the sand made no difference at all.

The Excavated Sandbox

We gave up on the minivan and started working on Lena's car, the civic. Eventually we were successful, but by the time we got it free, Luke and Jaz were way late for school and it was time for us to leave for our ultrasound appointment, 1/2 an hour away. All in all, it took us an hour to get from warming up the car to driving away. If we hadn't had the appointment as motivation, I likely would have given up and kept the kids home. As it was, the whole time I was thinking, "if this doesn't work, we'll call a taxi . . . or a friend with four wheel drive . . . one way or another we WILL get there!"

After pulling out of the driveway with our little car, packed full of the five of us (it definitely won't qualify as a family car anymore, come June), we rushed, and rushed, and rushed to get Luke and Jaz dropped off (and out of their snowsuits, and into their "indoor shoes," and settled into their classrooms), pick up some bagels and muffins (neither Lena or I had had a chance to eat breakfast with all of the car chaos), and zoom towards the back-up midwives' office (I say "back-up midwives" because we are planning a homebirth with homebirth midwives, but go to a hospital-based midwifery practice for all bloodwork/tests).

We really didn't stop to think about what we were doing or what we were about to find out. We were just trying to get there. And we got there 10 minutes late. And we raced inside the building and then into the office where we were quickly ushered into the ultrasound room, and within 30 seconds Lena's belly was gelled up and the ultrasound wand was applied. And then we were seeing our baby, and the very first body part we could make out was this one:


And just like that, the years and months and weeks and days of speculation came to an end. And I felt a peace come over me. And then we saw his sweet profile:


And we got to watch him moving his hands around and kicking his tiny, perfect feet. And the whole time we were just thinking, "wow. Four boys." And saying it in my head, it sounded so right, like this was all part of the plan. That we would decide to make a fourth baby, and that we would track down one last vial of the kids' donor's sperm, and that Lena would miraculously get pregnant the very first time we tried, and that we would become the mamas that we were always meant to be: the mamas of four sons.

I had anticipated potentially feeling some inkling of disappointment about the baby not being a girl, but was surprised to feel none at all. The baby was exactly the baby I wanted him to be, how could I possibly wish him to be anyone other than who he was? So while I assume that I may someday feel some saddness about not having any daughters, I do not wish that this baby was a daughter in the least. I can't wait for him to join his pack of brothers on the outside and make our family complete.

The Not-So-Big Reveal

When we were first contemplating parenthood and pregnancy, way back in the day when our house was filled with puppies and kittens and I was only 21 years old, Lena and I discussed the option of using sex-selected sperm. The concept was briefly referred to in one of our queer parenting books, and--at first--it sounded rather appealing. There was a part of each of us that was scared of having a boy. Having gone to a women's college and being queer with mostly queer friends, there just weren't a whole lot of boys in our life. Having a girl seemed like the easier way to go. Ultimately, our discussion did not lead to any further research. The process of spinning sperm to separate the X from the Y is only about 80% accurate, meaning that we could go through with it and still have a 20% chance of having a boy. And how would that feel, to know that we had gone out of our way to try and conceive a girl, but ended up with a boy anyway? Clearly, we would have to be totally fine with having a boy before we did anything, so as not to end up disappointed and somehow transfer those feelings to our child. And once we were totally fine with having a boy, there was no reason to use sex-selected sperm afterall.

We originally thought that we wouldn't find out the sex of our baby until he or she was born. After I was pregnant, and we began to suspect twins, we edited our previous plan to include a "unless we're having twins" stipulation. Having two babies at once seemed like enough of a surprise, and we wanted to be prepared, especially in case we were having twin boys. And, as is now perfectly clear, we were indeed expecting twin boys, and we were very glad to know it. Jasper revealed himself to us at our 16-week ultrasound, but Lukas kept his legs crossed and his tell-tale bits hidden until our 21-week level-2 ultrasound. Even then, the ultrasound technician was having a very hard time seeing anything, and said, "well, I'm thinking it's a girl, but I'm going to go and get the doctor and have him check to make sure." For five minutes, we thought we were having boy/girl twins. It was very exciting. And then the doctor came into the room and within 30 seconds declared, "it's a boy!" And I said, quickly, "well, we already know that one of them is a boy, are you sure you're not seeing that one?" And he moved the ultrasound wand around and repeated, "it's definitely a boy. Two boys." It took us about an hour to get really excited, but we did get there, and by the time Luke and Jaz were born, I was actually glad that they were both boys. That they'd be able to share their boyness with each other.

Jasper's penis at 21 weeks gestation

And once we had real, live babies in our arms, the fact that they were boy babies really didn't mean that much at all. We are, of course, well aware of the fact that sex and gender don't always correlate, and since we were attempting to raise our children in as ungendered a way as possible, I really don't think anything would have been any different had our babies each had a yoni instead of a penis.

When I was pregnant with Zeben, everyone wanted the baby to be a girl. I had had a vision before we conceived him that our third child would be a boy (and that his name would be "Zeben"), but I began to doubt my premonition due to every single person I came across saying, "oh, I think it's a girl this time!" Everyone thought it would be so perfect for our two sons to have a little sister. And, everyone wanted us to find out one way or the other as soon as possible. Although we no longer had the "twins" excuse for peeking at the sex of the baby via ultrasound, we still decided to do it. I was feeling all sorts of pressure for the baby to be a girl, and really felt that I would enjoy the pregnancy more if I knew. And Lena had thought that knowing during the first pregnancy had made it more real for her, and easier for her to bond with the babies.

When we went in for the ultrasound, the technician asked us if we had a preference one way or the other about the baby's sex. We were able to answer truthfully that no, we didn't, but we added that we did already have two boys at home. And just as I said that, I looked at the screen of the ultrasound machine and saw that our third baby was also, very obviously, a boy. We all laughed. And Lena and I did enjoy the pregnancy much more after that point, for whatever reason.

From then on, when we were asked if we knew the sex of the baby, and after divulging that the baby was, in fact, another boy, 9 out of 10 people would respond with a comment about baby clothing.

"Well, at least you don't have to buy any new clothes!"

I remember one time when this conversation took place with a stranger on the street, and after she had given this textbook clothing response, I looked down at my two 3-year-old sons, one dressed in pink pants with red heart-shaped patches on the knees, and the other dressed head-to-toe in shades of purple (Jasper's most favorite color for quite some time), and I thought, "that's true because if we had a girl, I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable dressing her in such girly outfits!" I found the clothing comments offensive, not only because they implied that a girl baby could not wear hand-me-down clothes from her older brothers, but also because they implied that the only good thing about having a third boy would be not having to buy girl clothes. Which was ridiculous for so many reasons (namely because dressing my children is at the very bottom of my "things to be think about as a mama" list), including the fact that if I had been expecting a girl, and if I had been the type of mother who wouldn't want to dress a baby girl in hand-me-down "boy" clothes, I probably would have also been the type of mother who would have been thrilled to finally have the opportunity to dress a baby in dresses and frills. And the fact that I wouldn't "need to buy any new clothes" would probably be depressing rather than relieving.

Who wouldn't dress a girl in these clothes?
(Jaz and Luke, 3.5 years old)

Because we already had two boys, two very-different-in-so-many-ways boys, we knew that the fact that our third child would also be our third son actually meant very little about what kind of person he would be. And the reality is that as a two-year-old, at least, he's really quite different from how his older brothers were in regards to his interests, etc. He doesn't particularly like trucks (no more than any other child), he doesn't climb everything in sight, we haven't had to tie the chairs to the dining room table like we did when Luke and Jaz were his age (lest they use them to gain access to everything they were otherwise too short to reach). We haven't had to baby-proof any cabinets or drawers at all! With Luke and Jaz, we had a lock on the fridge, the oven, the toilet, every door knob . . . and Zeben is just a very different kind of boy kid.

Zeben at four months,
wearing one of my favorite outfits

Tomorrow morning Lena will be 19 weeks pregnant, and we will go into the back-up midwives' office to take a peek via ultrasound at our fourth baby. The decision to have this ultrasound was probably the most debated of all the ultrasound decisions in our parenting career so far. At first we felt certain that we wouldn't have one at all. That we'd wait until the birth to find out if our baby had a yoni or a penis. But, as time went on, our resolve began to break down, until ultimately on New Year's Eve we confessed to each other that we both really wanted to find out. This time around, the majority of our friends urged us not to give into modern technology. They had all waited until the birth, and it was amazing and wonderful for them to get to greet their babies for the first time without knowing anything about what kind of sex organs they had. And the idea of going about this pregnancy and birth in the most natural way possible certainly does resonate with me. But knowing that I enjoyed the pregnancies more after finding out in the past, and knowing that finding out helped Lena, as the non-gestational parent, to more easily bond with the babies in-utero, and knowing that no matter what, we still won't know who the baby is until the birth (or years after the birth), ultimately convinced me that giving into my curiosity wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. And Lena felt the same way. So on January 2nd, we made the ultrasound appointment, and we have been pretty much just counting down the days since then.

"Hello, baby!"
(Luke, Jaz and the 19-week belly)

Tomorrow morning we may (or may not, I suppose, depending on the position of the baby) find out whether or not our baby has a yoni or a penis. And this information will hopefully allow both Lena and me (and perhaps, Luke, Jaz and Zeb) to even better enjoy the remainder of this pregnancy (not that we haven't been enjoying it already, of course). It will allow us to start referring to the baby by name rather than "he or she" or "the baby," and it will put an end to the debate about whether or not we should find out what type of sex organs our baby is equipped with. But, as we wait through these last 24 hours of possibility, we are also mindful about what the ultrasound tomorrow will not determine. It will not determine what types or colors of clothing we dress our baby in. It will not determine what types of toys our fourth child will one day choose to play with. It will not say anything about the personality of the youngest member of our family. And it will not necessarily mean anything about who our fourth son or first daughter grows up to be. Tomorrow will reveal just one of many surprises yet to come about the newest member of our family. And we are heading into the ultrasound with open minds and hearts full of love. We can't wait to see you, baby, whoever you are!

A Stitch in Time

Sometimes I think the Universe is laughing at me. Just last week I was remarking to a friend about how, for the first time ever, Luke and Jaz are getting close to out-growing some of their pants before wearing through them. Generally Luke and Jaz have grown rather slowly and I tend to buy their clothes big anyway, so usually their clothes reach the "unwearable" stage well before they're actually too small. Clearly, saying something like this outloud is just an invitation for a jinx, and by yesterday afternoon, 4 of the boys' 8 pairs of pants were piled up next to the sewing machine, in desperate need of repair.


Often when the boys have ripped through the knees of their shorts or pants in the past, after letting them continue to wear them for a couple of months and then declaring them "simply too ratty looking for public," I have said, "oh, I'll fix these another day," and tossed them into a pile in my sewing room. And then eventually, months later, I have come across them and instead of mending them, simply tossed them in to the trash.

But, since I'm all about trying to walk the talk these days, this time I decided that I actually would mend the boys' clothes, rather than toss and replace them. So while Luke and Jaz were at a playdate yesterday afternoon, and my wife was absorbed in her vampire books,


and Zeben was happily playing in the water table (melted snow turned out to be even more fun to play with than solid snow),


I got to work. And, while my mending didn't turn out perfectly by any means (I think maybe I need a new attachment for my sewing machine . . . a walking foot perhaps?), the boys' ripped pants have now been restored to wearability, and I think they will at least last until they're outgrown.

I started out ambitious and made (or attempted to make)
a cute little alien patch for the knee of these pants.

Then I moved on to plain patches.
Both knees were totally destroyed on these pants.

Patching turned out to be much more difficult than I thought it would be, at least with the limitations of my sewing machine. Also, the knees of the boys' pants were all puckered, not flat, and they were all lined, which made sewing patches on even tricker. So after the first two pairs, I abandoned patching, and just stuck with my friend the zig zag stitch.

before

after

These pants were kind of shredded at the knee, but a few rows of zig zag, sewing the outer layer to the lining, worked well. It's kind of a funky look, but totally acceptable according to me:


As I was sewing, I kept thinking about how mending is something that people (namely women, I suppose) have been doing for centuries, but how it's kind of become a lost art in today's world. How many people actually mend their clothes these days? And maybe that's just the beginning of where our problems as a culture begin. So, now I am comitted to improving my mending skills from here on out. And if I can just improve my stain-removal skills at the same time, we'll never have to buy clothes for Zeben again.

Collaborative Art

One of my favorite projects (or "projecks" as the kids say) to do with my three sons is to paint. I cover the big table with an old tablecloth, put on some music, and we all get into the painting zone.


This used to be the kind of thing that Luke, Jaz, and I would only do while Zeb was napping, but since he's no longer napping, we decided to try and include him and see if we could still get anything done. And he actually does really well, for the most part. He just loves to be included, and so being included brings out the best in him. But I do find that I have to kind of hold myself back from zoning out too much when Zeb's painting because it can very quickly go from this:


To this:


Along with us each just working on our own paintings, in the past few months we've started doing something that I call "collaborative art." The kids draw pictures on stretched canvas (using a black permanent marker or a black washable marker, depending on if they are 5 years old or 2 years old), and then I get to paint the canvases, with color instruction from the kids. This is really satisfying for all of us since none of the kids are yet able to paint details very clearly or stay within the lines (and thus they sometimes get frustrated when they are unable to complete their visions), and it's fun for me because I get to paint kind of mindlessly (which is really the only way I can paint when I have Zeb painting alongside me). Of course, the vast majority of their artwork is completed entirely by them without my support, but we've all really enjoyed our few works of collaborative art.

For one collaborative project, I gave each kid an 8" x 10" canvas and instructed them to draw some kind of food (to be hung on the wall behind their pretend kitchen). Jaz drew watermelon, Luke drew carrots, and Zeben drew apples.


And then I added the color.

Jaz calls this "The Flying Watermelon."

Zeb told me what colors to use and watched intently while I covered his canvas with paint.

Lena and I call this "the Amputated Arm" painting, and it
makes me smile every time I look at it. According to Luke, one carrot seed was
planted upside down, hence the carrot that grew pointy-side-up.

I love the way all three paintings look hanging together in the play kitchen corner (I did the lower-hanging tomato painting all by myself back when Zeb was still taking naps). Yum!

There are a couple of larger scenes that Luke and Jaz drew on canvas months ago, and that I'm still slowly painting in bit by bit. I think it will be fun to have several of our pieces of collaborative art hanging around the house someday.

In the Absence of Movies . . .

. . . watch art!


Despite birthing our children into an ever-increasingly technology-based culture, Lena and I have felt strongly about limiting their exposure to all of the latest technological innovations. As a preschool and kindergarten teacher, I never wanted a computer in my classroom, and I felt the same way about giving our kids access to one in the house. My theory being that young children need to learn to interact with people, not machines. I figured that surely they'd learn everything that they needed to know about computers eventually, and that there was no reason to rush it.

I say this, as I stare intently at the computer screen, typing furiously. Because Lena and I are both fairly dependent on our own computers, our kids still managed to get the message that "computers are important and exciting" even though they'd never been allowed to use one themselves. A couple of months ago, Luke and Jaz's curiosity really started to overwhelm them and they begged to be allowed a turn at the keyboard. Eventually I decided that maybe letting them explore the computer a little would be okay, especially if I could be incredibly selective about what exactly they were using it for.

My own first experiences on a computer began when I was about 10, when my parents bought our first Family Computer. There was only one program on it besides Word, and it was a kid's art program called "Kid Pix." So, determining that it's often best to stick with what I know, I decided to get Kid Pix for my current computer and let the boys play with it. The program is not exactly interactive (a good thing, in my opinion), but allows the kids to learn some basic computer skills (and save some paper at the same time). My worry about other sorts of computer games, is that it's a slippery slope from a computer game ("educational" as it may be) to a video game, and both Lena and I are really, truly, absolutely certain that we do not want our kids playing video games (at least not in our house, at least not anytime soon).

When the new software arrived, I uploaded it and then left Luke and Jaz to figure out how to use it on their own. It didn't take them long at all to discover how to work the mouse and what all of the different functions of the program were. And they love getting to make art on the computer. And, apparently, watching other kids make art on the computer is just as much fun as doing it yourself.

Since we ditched the Television Set a few weeks ago, we can no longer glue all of the kids to the couch and put on a movie when Katie and Aaron and their boys come over (which, delightfully, has been happening quite often as of late), but the other day we came across all 5 boys, totally absorbed in watching Lukas do Kid Pix on the computer.


He's drawing a line! Wait, no, he's erasing the line! And now . . . he's changing the color! But wait, what's that? He's going for a new tool! Completely Fascinating Stuff.

There we were, thinking that we were ditching the screen and encouraging more active, imaginative play, but clearly these resourceful children had other plans. Realizing how enticing any screen with anything on it can be for such new, impressionable minds only solidifies our decision to continue limiting their access as much as possible. Of course, if they want to make a screen out of the big blocks, we won't stand in their way for a second.

the new tv and couch set-up

Winterizing, part 2

My mom used to teach at an independent elementary school in Cambridge, MA that was housed in a 4-story, brick building in a residential neighborhood. Eventually, the school outgrew the space and moved to a new location, and the old building was bought by a wealthy family with two young boys who converted it into their house. Obviously, there was major renovation required to turn what had been a dozen or so classrooms and offices into bedrooms and living spaces, but the new owners chose to leave the fourth floor exactly as it had been. The fourth floor was a gym, with gorgeous wooden floors, high ceilings and huge, well-protected windows. I often find myself fantasizing about this situation during the Winter, when the kids are running circles around my legs and declaring my body as "base!" I could certainly do without the dozen large rooms of living space, but I can't help but think that life would be pretty amazing if only we had a gym in our house. Seriously.

Luke and Jasper's second home

The first time we moved after Luke and Jaz were born--they were 11 months old--it was with this image of an indoor gym in my mind. We moved into a studio apartment on the fourth floor of an old factory building. The apartment was huge--2100 square feet--but was comprised of only one room (plus a bathroom and a closet). The kids could run, and run, and run, and run (and yes, they were running at the age of 11 months). It was January, and we felt like we'd found the best possible solution to surviving winter with little kids. Plus, we'd always been into rearranging our homes (switching the living room and the bedroom, adding and removing guest rooms, etc.), and the big open space offered endless furniture arrangement possibilities. We moved out after 13 months (and several different arrangements), longing for doors we could close and the ability to contain "the playroom" somewhat (as well as some outdoor space that was more exciting than a parking lot). But we've never lived anywhere quite as indoor-play-friendly since then.

During my initial burst of post-Solstice tree house reorganization in our current home, I once again decided to make our home as much like a gym as possible. Living in a much more limited space than we ever have before, there aren't as many possibilities as far as rearrangments go. But I quickly realized that the first thing to do was to lose the living room couch.

living room (before)

Our living room is not exactly tiny, but it's not exactly big either. And the couch was taking up a lot of space. I thought about all of the things that we did in the living room, and "sitting on the couch" was nowhere near the top of the list. For the most part, if we're hanging out in the living room, we're laying around directly in front of the woodstove, or playing a game on the floor. Sure, there was the occasional pregnancy-induced afternoon nap on the couch, but there were many days that left the couch entirely neglected, especially since the arrival of a second couch in the kitchen (we are huge believers in the kitchen couch). With Zeben's help, I dragged the living room couch outside and left it in the snow (and later moved it into my mom's basement next door). The resulting opening allowed me to both move the train table into the living room (it had previously been in the kids' room upstairs, mostly ignored), and bring over the big, soft blocks that we'd had in storage since the move.

living room (after)

The big blocks were a collective gift to Luke, Jaz and Zeb two years (and two houses) ago, and they were certainly at the top of the list of the most-played with toys before we moved. But we didn't see how we could fit them into our new, much smaller house (we more than halved our square footage in the last move). We thought about selling them, but just couldn't bring ourselves to do it, and I'm so glad that we didn't! The kids were beyond thrilled to come home and find the blocks waiting for them, and have been playing with them constantly ever since.


And while the pregnant member of our family was somewhat disgruntled to learn that I had gotten rid of one of her comfy resting spots, I've shown her that I can simply build her a little couch out of blocks in the evenings when she wants to recline by the fire. I'm not sure that she's been entirely convinced, but she does agree that the new set-up has allowed for much more playspace and much more active, engaged, imaginative play. It's not a gym, but it's as close as we can get. We may end up bringing the couch back inside when winter is over (and when there's a new baby needing to nurse all day long), but so far it's hardly been missed. I'm not sure that our living room really qualifies as a living room anymore (perhaps it would fit better into the "playroom" category), but then again, it's seeing a lot more life in its new incarnation.


Next, I took on the dining room. Simply by rotating the dining room table, I totally changed the energy of the room and made it feel much bigger (and created a larger passageway for the kids to run through). I also moved out the tiny table from the corner and replaced it with a larger table that functions as an ever-available art space for the kids. This has been wonderful because it means that the big table isn't always covered with art supplies. Plus, there was room to make the play kitchen corner into a cozier, more dynamic space.

dining room (before)

dining room (after)

the art table

The new set-up just makes so much more sense, and I think we will definitely be leaving it like this from now on. No space is wasted, and every corner has a purpose. It's way more than just a dining room now.

Last night when Katie and Aaron came over for some post-inauguration celebrating (woo-hoo!), they brought with them one of their indoor Winter solutions (passed down to them from another parent who had used it as a Winter survival tool): a small bounce house. It just about filled our mudroom and definitely filled our house with the sounds of giggling, bouncy children.

Lukas, Zeben, and Aryeh, bouncing and recharging.

I'd love to know of other ways that people have found to Winterize their houses and to help their kids stay engaged and find appropriate outlets for their boundless energy (so that you don't happen upon them jumping off the top of the fridge, like Lukas did last night).

1 month down, 2 months to go . . .

Winterizing, part 1

Ever since I (finally) got the solstice tree down and dragged it out back to the woods last week, I've had a burst of home-focused energy. I keep feeling tempted to call it "Spring cleaning," but I guess that would be silly seeing as we're still in the baby days of Winter. I sometimes have the urge to see the Winter Solstice as the beginning and the end of Winter all at once, and I can get impatient for Spring much too soon. Maybe by doing my Spring cleaning early, Spring will follow suit and actually arrive early. Maybe. But really, what I've been doing does not exactly qualify as Spring cleaning. Spring cleaning is about opening the windows and airing everything out. And we are certainly not opening our windows anytime soon (even if we wanted to we wouldn't be able to since they're frozen shut). Upon further reflection, I've realized that my goal in working on the house for the past several days has been to make our home cozier, more colorful, and more entertaining as we settle in for the long haul of Winter (which realistically, will probably last another three months). I've been moving furniture around, hanging things on the walls, and seeing our little house in a whole new, Winter light. I haven't been Spring-cleaning at all; I've been Winterizing.


Today Zeb and I decided to Winterize the process table. In the summer, the process table was a much-loved water table out in our old backyard and then on our little deck after we moved. In the fall, we collected chestnuts, brought the process table inside and filled it with over a hundred of the silky smooth woody balls. The kids played with the chestnuts for a few weeks, but for the past couple of months the nuts have been left alone to shrivel, mold and collect dust. It was well past time to think of something new for the kids to process. But what? I theorized for a few days about which substance would best represent winter (rice? pasta? beans?) before realizing . . . duh . . . snow! So this morning Zeb and I cleared out the chestnuts (he is such a good helper lately), washed out the table, and filled it with powdery, white, freezing cold snow.


Zeb was beside himself with excitement. Bringing snow into the house? Getting to put his "guys" in the snow? Digging in the snow with a shovel? All of this while barefoot? Bring it on!



Zeben played with the snow for hours, studying it, moving it around, and using it to bury his guys. "Oh no, pole-der bear! Where are you pole-der bear? Here you are! I found the pole-der bear! Kangaroo! Where's mine kangaroo? Kangaroo, are you hiding, kangaroo? Are you hiding in the snow?"

When he's playing with the snow outside (when it's warm enough to be outside), it's very much a gross motor experience for him: slipping and climbing and falling and sliding. So I think he really enjoyed the opportunity to have a calm, focused, fine-motor experience with the snow.


12 hours later, the snow in the table is almost completely melted. But there's plenty more where it came from, and I have a pretty good idea of what 3 barefoot boys in pajamas are going to be doing first thing tomorrow morning. Wearing mittens, of course.