Thank you. To everyone who donated to Lee’s Heart fund.

Look. I raised some money.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. If you are interested in the Auction ON Lee’s behalf it’s going on now.

I stood at the counter peeling apples, Still? Still peeling apples? Yes. Washington, after all is abundant in apples.

I peel, chop and drop in the crock pot (my favorite way to make applesauce, I can take my time and rarely every burn myself! Bonus.) And my mind rambles over the week ( I know it’s only Thursday…) and around the grumpies I seem to be unable to shake.

For the first time this week, it seems, I stand still. I peel and cut, then drop.

In the other room trains crash and pumpkins invade the Island of Sodor as the bears have before them.

At the table there is cutting and pasting.

Peel. Cut. Drop.

For the first time this week, the rhythm of our days together begins to emerge. I realize that I’ve felt off kilter all week. Running to and fro and fro and to. I stand still in my kitchen for the first time this week, grounded in our life, by the simple act of making applesauce.

Peel. Cut. Drop.

Finally. I feel it. What I’ve been missing all week. Balance.

Finally I can shake off the grumpies and focus on the weekend ahead and the friends and family we have invited into our house.

Peel. Cut. Drop. Simmer.

It’s been a long, exhausting week at The Burrow. What? It’s Tuesday Night?

Are you sure?

Moo’s new favorite catch phrase is “Are you sure?”.

Mama: Time for lunch
Moo: Are you sure? It’s not time for cookies.
Mama: um. Yes.

Mama: Time to go get our haircut
Moo: Are you sure? It’s not time to go to the Zoo?
Mama: Yes. I’m sure

Mama: do you have to go to the bathroom (cute dance)
Moo: NO
Mama: Are you sure?
Moo: SURELY NOT! I don’t have to go potty!

Surely this fall has brought many changes to The Burrow but things are settling into gentle rolling rhythms as we all adjust to the new schedule and season. Today was a typical Northwest day with torrential downpours followed by minutes of glorious sunshine and then back to wet, wet, wet!

And while I feel the sunshine of the day and spending that time with my boys, who are getting so big, the end of the day sometimes feels, wet, wet, wet! As the deluge of all the things I didn’t get done during the day dumps on my head.

It’s easy in the dark rainy nights to focus on unwashed dishes, and hair, on un sewn bags and quilts and on the reasons your two year old has stopped sleeping and now parties like a rockstar till midnight each night. Because seriously? Tired.

But mornings? that slowly creep into days? They are the best. Full of walks, and trains and snacks and trains, coloring, crafting and trains. As my boys grow their personalities develop and solidify and I feel the days speeding past me as I sit quietly reading the Littlest Pumpkin for the fifth time today.

2006. Back when I had little pumpkins and not gigantic boys.

Sheesh the weekend done run me down.

This weekend was spent stacking the last of the firewood before the rains come (unfortunately they came Friday, so that was a wet job), mowing and weed eating in preparation for the Turtledash, putting up more pepper relish, and blackberry jam, and more applesauce and not burning any of the runners and shriekers who always turn up just as I’m transferring hot jars around, driving here and there to celebrate birthdays and eating birthday cake, always important.

Somewhere in there I ran some hills with MB and Legolas.

And then it was Monday afternoon.

How did that happen?

Spending all this time in my Studio (hard at work-ahem) I’ve been ‘forced’ to do some re organization. As I’ve diligently kept my nose to the grindstone, my eyes have sometimes wandered to my fabric stash and it’s um, organization?

Fall is eminent, even though we here in the PNW are experiencing freakishly hot weather (for us) this September, corduroy looms in the future. Corduroy pants, corduroy bags, corduroy, corduroy, CORDUROY. How I love you.

And as I tapped away at the keyboard (diligently) I thought to myself. I need to make some pants. Dinosaur pants. But you know when I’m done working (hard).

But my corduroy is stored in the crawl space of my studio, along with my flannel, denim and Christmas presents (no fair looking!). To get up from the desk and root around in the crawl space would definitely be deviating from the good little worker plan.

This weekend I moved all the big pieces of corduroy and denim that I could make pants out of the crawl space and folded them carefully on the shelf next to my desk.

Admittedly somewhat distracting. But what is the point of having a studio that doesn’t lend it self to a quick pair of dino trousers?

Really I had no choice.

*Tomorrow is the last day I’ll beg you for money. Have a heart! Give Lee 5 bucks and help me reach %50 of my goal.

My oldest born is a great one for stopping to smell the roses, and watch the ants or the slugs; counting the snails on the trail to grandma’s, leaning in closer to watch the bumblebees at work.

Most often heard from his mouth. “Stop! Wait a minute!”
Most often heard from mine, “This is a walk, not a stop!”

I always start out patient, watching the grasshopper, hop hop hopping along but my patience is fleeting in the face of his two year old brother who is winding himself slowly around me in every tightening loops. Or dashing to that pile of dog poop and scooping and throwing before I can even utter “ohhhhh noooo”.

My littlest man’s fingers are stained black from constant blackberry picking (and eating) as our mine from these late blooming berries that we are putting away for later. His older brother’s fingers are pristine as he has analyzed the spider webs while we picked and cataloged each Spider’s wares.

I’m always amazed at how different my little men are, at how parts of their father (the talking, talking, talking part) and mama (sugar craving parts) are combined in them. My sons will both initiate conversation with perfect strangers (their dad, I would hide under the bed) and remember things for evah! (that would be me).

I have rainbow and unicorn dreams about them growing up and being best friends and taking care of each other and then they start pummeling each other and screaming “Mama. OOWWW he bit me!” “Nooo he bit me!! oWWWW!”. And it all sort of pops like the dream bubble it is.

And they are crawling all over me “he hurted me, YOU GOTTA KISS ME!” “No, kiss me, I’m so sad!”

Each day with them, really is an adventure, sometimes a crazy adventure, sometime a rubber booted, creek-fording adventure, sometimes a blackberry finding adventure, sometimes a push each other down over and over again until Mama ties us to rafters adventure. Sometimes its a name all the paintbrushes and their relationship to each other day adventure.

And some days? It’s just as sitting on the porch watching the inch worms and other bugs adventure.

Maybe it’s a donate to Lee’s Heart Fund Adventure? Friday is the last day of the fundraiser, please consider giving a few dollars, thank you.

Overheard through the screen door.

Bumblebee (in Moo’s words): But I want to come inside
Moo: But my mudder says Bumblebees live outside
Bumblebee: outside?
Moo: yes…
Bumblebee: but I wuv you
Moo: I wuv you too Bumblebee but Mudders says “tough.”

I stayed up to late last night Watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer (still angling for that 15yr old reader category) the musical episode. It wasn’t as good as I expected it to be. But then it had been built up in my mind and I had been waiting through all of Season Five to watch it.

I’m a huge fan of musical’s as is Joss Whedon obviously. I stayed up too late last night watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer the musical episode. Twice. Once for me and once with Whedon’s commentary. And I may or may not be listening to the music right now. (I’ll never tell-And I certainly haven’t waste an hour of my life finding and arranging them in order).

I realized tonight, as I search the web for the songs that have been running through my head all day, that I wanted more. Maybe it wasn’t as good as I expected or maybe? Maybe the letdown of the Buffy musical was that I wanted to hear Anthony Stewart Head and Amber Benson sing another song. I wanted Emma Caulfield to lay some more heavy metal on me (re: bunnies) and hear James Marsters croon a bit more.

Even Buffy had a great voice. Totally impressive. So yeah I liked it. Alot.

Today as Legolas and I beat feet up and down our hilly three miler we huffed and puffed and we talked about being Moms. Being a parent is hard, and it’s not quite what you expect. I never expected to judge myself so harshly. I think we enter parenthood thinking we mostly have it figured out. Feed, Bathe, Wipe, wipe, wipe, sleep. Then they go to college.

But in fact the whole process is a learning one. You learn about yourself, your partner, and your child(ren). And like all new things it’s scary and stressful. I think as parents, we spend so much time feeling inadequate in ourselves, and judging ourselves that sometimes we sink to the level of being relieved with someone else’s perceived failure. Like, ‘phew!’ what a relief, they aren’t perfect after all and so I don’t look as bad in comparison.

Obviously this is all in our heads. No one is judging us to the high standards we hold ourselves too, they are too busy holding themselves to their own standards. One thing I’ve learned (over and over it seems) is that ‘it’ is rarely, if ever about me.

It’s usually about someone or thing else but I happening to be seeing it through my worldview. Someone else’s failure, says nothing about me. Sometimes it makes me feel better for not being able to achieve what they have, but that again is my stuff. Not theirs.

I won’t be running the full 13.1 miles of the Turtledash. I wasn’t able to make myself adhere to the training plan this year. I accept that. I still feel as though I’ve failed myself just a tiny bit. Even though I know I can run 13.1 miles (with training) and that there is next year and every other half marathon out there to prove that. I had to put other things in front of my training this year and sometimes life, and parenthood is like that.

I feel like I should run the Turtledash because it’s my run. I’m guessing no one else thinks that. It’s only about me in my own mind.

The journey of being a parent is not something you can train for. It is a constant source of surprise, education, and joy. And it is hardly ever what we expect it to be. Sometimes it doesn’t live up to our expectations, and then we find ourselves humming its tune as it gets stuck in our head. A surprise.

For instance who would have guessed my son who loves to dress up would choose a new friend over a chance to get a new costume. I had to draw the line at the skeleton sleeping in his bed, because it was freaking me out. Frankly.

(His new best friend)

A few weeks ago I received a letter in the mail from one of my favorite people (other than you of course.) It was from someone I don’t see very much anymore, but who I always think about. Someone who has a very special place in my Heart. You may know her as Pixie.

Pixie Potter.

Apparently she is fourteen* now. I personally refuse to believe it. So there.

She reads my blog.

I’m a parent of two little boys but Pixie will always be my little girl. The one who I pretended was mine and who I played house with. Not just the fake pancake kind. But the real pancake kind. We used to have Pixie for the day, she’d spend the night and in the morning? Pancakes! We would ‘play’ at family. With a returnable kid (which by the way is totally the way to go, these kids that are here All. The. Time? What’s the deal!)

She reads my blog.

Many of my friends do, and you, may I call you my friend? You do as well. But I’m guessing there aren’t a lot of 14 year old readers of my mama, crafty, quilty blog. Then again maybe I’m a star in the 14 year old blogosphere, you never know. YOU NEVER KNOW!

She reads my blog.

I think about it sometimes when I’m writing, but not much, because I’m writing for me so that I can remember these moments in our lives. And last month I wrote about Lee**, who is a part of these moments in my life. And I wanted to do something, I wanted to raise money* to show support for a family that is a part of me.

A few weeks ago I received a letter in the mail.

She reads my blog.

It doesn’t matter how many bills were carefully wrapped in a letter in this envelope. Of course I”ll remember the amount, but what I’ll remember more? Is this envelope, it’s contents and how it touched my heart.

Thank you Pixie.

*Apparently Pixie is fifteen. I don’t believe it. but there you have it.

** there is still time to donate to Lee’s Heart fun (see the sidebar for details). Many of you have sent readers here and I appreciate that. I would like to meet at least half my goal by next week when this fundraiser ends, thank you for helping Lee’s Heart Fund.