baby by the sea

weekending [Poser ]

2012-01-30T00:00:00.000-08:00

the weekend comes with sun
like cockroaches in the dark of evening we skedaddle
up the street: fairground's park
i fall in love with instagram
like a polaroid for life's scenes
captions like ball point pen titles
betty rose and lucy may fall in love
with skate park's forbidden chalkability
new half pipe's dream:
can we bring daddy's old matchbox cars here, please?

we look at the big kids
i'm sure olive june believes
a bmx has wings
saturday morning has so many
excuses: last night's migraine, warm down comforter, rain on the window panes, 2-year-old expert cuddler, and the i'm really freakin' tired feeling
so much texting going on under the sheets
until one friend gets me
out of bed, into black spandex stuffing an energy bar into coffee-less lips
i'm almost at your doorstep
so my crafty friend and i run along the sea
almost always up hill
there's a lot of laughs, profound pavement conversation
but there's sweat and doubt and a eulogy in lyrics and a disconnect in time
all of a sudden, almost the last mile and I fall into the swing of things
i am amazed how long it takes to be alright, to feel more than ok
i am amazed at how much commitment it takes, how many great songs it takes
it is the longest i've ever run in my whole life
7-something miles
i sprint the last block
it is, obviously, the espresso shack at saturday's finish line

new sneakers, new milestones
with triple frothy mocha love.
after a plate of meat, hot shower
daddy and the littlest lady nap the day and the head cold away
betty rose and lucy may create a yoga game
has me stretching for hours

i love when i do what they do and they do what i do.
my ticket out of the house is four cans of soup and two boxes of crackers,
here's dinner, love you
and i'm off with an island mama pal
for a few hours
i knit, i laugh
i fall for every word of Claire Dederer
who reads from Poser
i so get everything she's talking about,
how if you admit to a mom at playgroup that you hate doing puzzles
you're really saying you're against cognitive development
i get her, so clearly
i laugh and nod so freely
and it's not just the NW connection
with this seattle mama
or her talk of learning how to mother from being a daughter
or her time at Stuart, my favorite island
she's witty and brilliant and clever with crisp prose
and not to sound too much like an author groupie,
but she really would have liked
my mama pal and me
still wish we had invited her for a drink
{sigh} she is so lovely.
please, read her book.
saturday night it rains
small woodland creatures
i fall asleep as owls fall on shingles
wake with a vow to
stay in pajamas
step over laundry
knit, watch x-games
for so very long i wish i was on a chairlift
until olive hands me her mixer with a
please, mama? bread, mama?

Honey and Seed Bread, Mixer-Style
{makes 2 yummy loaves]
1. pour 3/4 cup warm water into mixer and sprinkle 1 1/2 tablespoons yeast and 1 teaspoon sugar over water's surface.
2. once yeast is frothy, add 1 1/2 cups warm milk with 2 tablespoons of softened unsalted butter and 2 tablespoons honey.
3. combine with paddle then add 2 cups flour, 1 tablespoon salt and 4 tablespoons raw sunflower seeds. beat hard and until smooth and add about 4 cups flour (1/2 cup at a time) until an uneven dough ball is formed.
4. use dough hook for an additional 3-5 minutes on varying speed and add 1 tablespoon of olive oil at end to create a spongy ball.
5. place dough ball in an oiled bowl atop a heating pad set to low for about 2 hours, or until doubled in bulk.
6. have a child gently punch dough to deflate, then turn out dough on a floured surface. divide dough into two equal portions, and place in greased pan with seam side down.
7. beat an egg with 1 tablespoon of water and brush this egg wash onto top of loaf. let rise atop heating pad, covered with a tea towel.
8. let rise to rim (about an hour) and preheat oven to 375 degrees twenty minutes before baking.
9. bake on bottom rack for about 40 minutes, or until loaves sound hollow. allow to cool on wire rack before slathering with butter.
::
joining Amanda

This Moment {my first instagram}

2012-01-27T00:37:00.000-08:00

A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

Great Wolf Lodge

2012-01-23T00:04:00.000-08:00

I'll admit, the start of our trip is crazy. My heart is heavy with the intense celebration of our firstborn's seventh birthday and the mourning of seven years gone by so quickly. I am supposed to be packing for our supreme off island destination celebration, but I am sworn into office for my local School Board elected position #4.
I get food poisoning or something exactly like it right after my first official meeting, so the red eye ferry off island doesn't sound so brilliant.
I wake up around Olympia, somehow we are packed in and almost to Great Wolf Lodge in Grand Mound, WA as the haze of a sleepless night evaporates over talk of a water park birthday adventure.
We are greeted by a wolf pack of jolly helpers so sincere and excited for our arrival, we feel instantly at home.

I am so happy to be working with Great Wolf Lodge and feel incredibly lucky and honored to be able to celebrate a daughter's birthday in such an awesome place. I am certain the words and pictures of our journey off our tiny island to 56,000 square feet of water-logged joy will be amazing.

Our behind the scenes guide is Cody, quite possibly the most knowledgeable and authentically friendly tour guide in Washington. He is kind, funny and able to answer my husband's in-depth questions with quick answers like, all air inside the park is exhausted three times an hour and the hot water throughout the park and resort is fed through a supply-demand circulating loop with the same six burners delivering the exchange.

Cody is serious, but more importantly a dad. So when our four year old asks, what happens to all the poop and pee in a pool? he can explain with flowery language and a teachable edge, inside this tube are fingers like a straw all covered in mesh.....back wash of water goes to the sewer and shakes with snow-flake shaped filters and is shaken like a milk shake...every 100 gallons of water..

My husband is a lineman for our local power company who has had the pleasure of touring our island's water treatment plant, and he is fascinated to learn the water meant for us to swim in is purified and cleansed in the same way as our island's drinking water.

Each time the wave pool begins to swell, it's due to the wave machine. There's a recorded wolf howl, a Wolf Howl Amplifier to be exact, to let swimmers know of arriving waves.

Please tell me how waves are made, says Betty.
There are two really huge fans that push down on the water, and a different computer program is used for different types of waves, says Cody. Our oldest daughter, Betty, is fascinated with this machine and wants to create a similar portable machine to bring to the beach with her. Someday, maybe she will.

I am most impressed with how green Great Wolf Lodge is. I mention to Cody that the lightening is like sunlight and he talks of LED, how it costs $.50 per day for 80 lights and uses 45 watts of electricity when old lights use 550 watts each. Crazy, considering each LED bulb costs $450, where the old bulbs cost about $25.
My head is full of school board budgets, and when Cody mentions the monthly water and power bill for The Lodge, with costs cut by staggering turn-on and being billed at peak performance I think of how we can all learn a lot from Great Wolf's procedures.
Great Wolf Lodge meets the Green Seal Environmental Standard for environmental responsibility, and there's even children's entertainment developed with partner National Geographic Kids with activities, a Green Wolf TV channel and interactive web content.
We are interrupted by our four year old: what if there's a fire?
Well, says Cody, the fire suppression system will drain the pool.
Wooooaaaahhhh, say our two oldest girls.

As soon as the girls see Fort Mackenzie, the 4-story tree house of splish-splash fun, they can not wait to get into bathing suits.
As soon as the girls see the tip of the 1,000 gallon bucket, they really can not wait to get into bathing suits.

In today's world, food allergies are common. But Betty's food intolerance Fructose Malabsorbtion still raises eyebrows and confusion.
She has a gluten allergy and a fructose allergy. Oh, and she only eats duck eggs. Chicken eggs cause bizarre things.
Great Wolf is so accommodating and greets us with howls and a gluten-free spread. Warm cookies make the entrance to any room incredible, especially a KidCabin Suite, happily packed with a cabin-themed bunk bed area, queen beds for read alouds and a pull out sofa for spread-out nap times.

Our room's tub is perfect for bubbly sister soaking. I think we might have two mermaids on our hands as hours and hours at a water park lead to happy tub time with bath time giggles.

Olive loves the woodland creatures wishing her sweet dreams over big girl's bunk bed. Her favorite nighttime love-y, Eagle, (Eag-gey) looks right at home as she makes him talk to the happy black bear after bedtime stories and lullabies.

There was a sweater I tried to finish, a bolero to be exact, that I'd initially named the First Day of First Grade sweater. It took so long, as sleeves often do in their repetitive time consumingness.
I rename it the First Day of Age Seven sweater. She loves it so.

Ever since I knit this elephant that accompanied her to Kindergarten's first day, Betty has been obsessed with African Elephants.
I love my new birthday elephant so much and I bet it would love a wolf for a friend. I bet this is the first elephant to ever sleep over in a wold den, Mama.

We successfully carry a duck egg, gluten-free cake decorated with red and purple and an elephant and a seven on the ferry and it remains unharmed during our five hour car ride.
Two other island families join us and the main dining hall is happy to host ten kids and four adults for a hyper birthday dinner bash. Our kids love the wolf tails, wolf ears handed out to dining guests.
The waitstaff surrounds our table with clappy flair and sings a sweet wolf pack song.
Happy Birthday, Betty
Happy, Happy, Happy Birthday

Baby sister Olive approves, sings CAKE at a high octave, stuck on repeat like an exultation.

Our family days always end with story time, so Great Wolf Lodge's Great Clock Tower show is the perfect finale to water park soaks, splashes. It is a magical woodland creature puppet show where everyone is pajama-clad and snuggle ready.

Our girls listen,

story will mesmerize

magical bliss.

I don't want to get eaten by a wolf when we drive back to Montana, says Betty. This is something she mentions a lot. It even keeps her awake some nights.
She's seven, where the line that blurs the Easter Bunny and a human in a furry suit begins to divide.
Why is Wiley the Wolf so big and wearing clothes? she asks.
I don't think a wolf wears clothes. Oh, I get it. He works here. This is his job. He has a wolf family.
She gets his autograph for her little sisters, gives a big hug and asks for a photo.
You know what, Mama? I really liked Wiley. He was super cool, says Betty.
I am so happy she believes he is real and kind.

Elevators are fun for little girls who live on a tiny island, and so are long hallway walks with images fit for a memory.
We opted out of MagiQuest, a magic wand scavenger hunt where the end dual is against a dragon. The wand also has the ability to make squirrels giggle and swing, make paintings come to life with sound and trick. I think once we've moved away from fairy play and enter more of a Harry Potter age, we'll quest it up.
Funny, in all there is to visually absorb our little Olive was most smitten with the bear image on the hallway rugs. Sometimes kids are so easy to please.

I love Skee Ball. I'd play it competitively if I could. Whenever an arcade has pinball and Skee Ball my hubby and I flounder between watching our kids while helping them play games to falling into the tunnel vision of a game we love.

So I fully get our girls' love of the disco black light, neon games with luring songs and digital happy sounds.

Our girls are experts in pretend play, video games without quarters, on our island ferry rides. There's simply so much joy in the motions of play. But Great Wolf did an excellent job with an arcade for all levels where young babes could feel successful in focus and play.

Our island friend hit the jackpot early on. It took a long time to turn out tickets like streamers.

Olive has new penguin slippers and big sister Betty wanted to surprise her with a stuffed friend. She spent almost her whole arcade budget on the possibility of a little sister smile.
Solemn, she learned a lesson often taught from an arcade claw: so many things in life are often out of reach.

Olive taps into her inner teen at Gr8_Space, a teen hang out with Guitar Hero, video games, Tech Jockey DJ booth and iPod docking stations.

Club Critter looks like a fantastic apres nap space. The color-cut-paste possibilities are endless, with even tie dye, bottle sand art and personalized story book design. Scoops Kid Spa deliciously delivers ice cream themed manicures and pedicures, sherbet scrubs all on a banana split throne.

Great Wolf Lodge is high on safety and proud of their lifeguards. I'm paranoid, so this works out great for me. There's lifeguards everywhere on constant high alert. I'm used to texting, flirting lifeguards so this is a nice change.
Cody, the finest tour guide imaginable tells us, Great Wolf has the highest scoring lifeguards who repeatedly exceed the standard Platinum award.
I'm impressed enough to let our children play without worry, to swim beside our children with the ease of relaxation knowing we are all in good hands.
Frequently, we see a lifeguard tester throw a mannequin in the water. Lifeguards have ten seconds to spot it. Each one we watch is scooped out and saved within eight seconds.

Great Wolf is the perfect escape to our Pacific Northwest climate. The air leaves us without foggy steam since it is three degrees warmer than the water. 84 degree water leaves us without goose bumps when it's time for towel snuggles.

There is so much beauty in walking around in all that warm laughter.

There is so much beauty in tiny water play places, little spouts and splashes.

The Howlin' Tornado, as seen from our window, is a 30-foot drop and swish in a 6-story funnel water slide.
Dude.
I scream, eyes shut tight, with mama friends. At night, the LED lights make it a terrifyingly fantastic disco swirl of a time.

Big sisters rocked the Cup Paw pool,

two splashes,
endless giggles
stuck on repeat.

I mistook her maturity and responsibility for a touch of daredevil recklessness.

The big slide is too much for her calm soul, and she retreats happily to the wave pool, bobbing in the deep end and pretending to be a mermaid on rough seas.

Big Foot Pass and the Chinook Cove Activity Pool was like monkey bars and tiny trampolines in water. At least that's how our girls describe it.

Olive loves the mushroom shower, the rain blankie, the super water. She has so many names for it.

Lucy loves the Totem Tower escape from the tree house.
Her fingers and toes are all white, wrinkly from hours of slip sliding.
She's all giggles until we mention the dreaded words, last ride.

Our middle child pouts like no one else. I break the news it is time to stop our three straight hours of water play to eat. Plus, littlest sister needs a nap. I pinky swear we'll come back to ride more of the red slide in a bit and middle sister couldn't keep a frown on.
It's no secret the Pacific Northwest isn't know for its snow.
The holiday season's arrival makes the grey December rains more pronounced.
Great Wolf's winter wonderland is beautiful, enchanting.

Northwest fog changes Santa's plans of sky diving into the parking lot. His arrival to pair up with Mrs. Claus commences hot apple cider and hot chocolate sipping. It begins to snow in the lobby where his friends Rudolph and Gingerbread Man join the holiday bash.

Santa arrives on a Rudolph-nose red Harley Davidson.

Ho, Ho, Ho amid Harley's patented exhaust is a perfect holiday song, sound.

:::
Great Wolf Lodge has eleven resorts around the country. I had heard about if from so many families, so many friends and was excited to find out it was everything and more. Yes, three swimming days with three little girls was exhausting but it was really the good kind of tired, the good kind of fun.
Make sure you check out Great Wolf Lodge's Facebook page for news and discounts.
Thank you, Great Wolf Lodge for a great birthday celebration, a wonderful island getaway and a fantastic water park holiday vacation.
Yup. You're that cool.

Today's Mama:::Run Like a Mama

2012-01-22T00:00:00.000-08:00

I wake up late, with our youngest tucked under my arm. She'd snuggled in while I was still dreaming, and this comfortable cuddle makes it hard to leave our down comforter. I think, I could stay like this all day.
I drag my feet in flannel pajamas, eat chocolate chips and sip black, strong coffee for too long it becomes no longer morning, no longer productive.
Darn it's not pouring with 30 mph winds, I think and am angry about not having a good excuse to miss my training run.
I text my bestest, first island mama friend, I'm slothy and eating chocolate chips. It's almost noon. Where should I run six miles?
I'lll be there soon, she writes.
:::
Sometimes I'm not lucky enough to share the pavement with a pal.
Sometimes I need to rely on my own urging and run through all the thoughts in my head before I can take a first step.
This whole running thing is new(ish) to me, and
sometimes I'm not happy I am running but rather happier to have run at all.
I wrote about a run you'll never believe I took in my Today's Mama column.

Run Like a Mama

Around here, snow comes slow and seldom. For a few days a year life stalls with a thick blanket tucked in at our island’s shoreline. It interrupts routines and creates new ones, like sledding and icicle collecting.

Click [HERE] to continue reading.

This Moment {snow queen(s)}

2012-01-20T00:00:00.000-08:00

A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

:::P.S:::
I want to pause, savor and remember everything about the snow that fell on our island. We bundled in the wind, the bitter blowing snow to sled and giggle and cry when our fingers froze and pout when it wasn't our turn and laugh when it was and love every minute of the hot chocolate once we were inside. Sledding was so much fun, the girls couldn't see the tall grass, summer's gone blackberry vines and occasional rocks peeking up through light snow.

And in the middle of a snowy field where we should have built a snowman but were too busy sledding, I noticed the ever changing smile of my first born. New teeth, baby teeth and I love it.

Olive just kept saying, Mama it's snowy out! She couldn't believe that snow came to our tiny island and I don't believe I'd ever tire of hearing her say that in all her enthusiastic cuteness.

Yup. She was pretty darn cute in the snow.
Especially when she kept telling the same joke,
Mama, where'd my boots go?

Weekending [2012's first snow]

2012-01-16T00:01:00.000-08:00

Saturday's wet, cold rain
a bit sideways, a bit windy
just-after-dawn's darkness
five mile run
was it all up hill?
wet socks, cold fingers, stale lungs, burning legs
had me thinking half-marathon training is tough stuff
sharing the pavement with girlfriends is essential stuff
it took a hot mocha, hot shower, fleece couch-y snuggles
and most of the damp day to recover
Sunday's birthday start:
cards and coloring and crayon notes of love:
I love you Daddy and You're My Best Friend, Daddy and Hapy Daddy Luv
and Happy Birthday To You sung on repeat
snow, steady and slow and slight
only on our side of the island
western shore with enough for a snowman
while we had
so much for fairies, it's really knee-deep for them, Mama
snow,
just thankful it came at all
so slight,

frosts the old white pickup

punctuates a fence

like glitter, she says,
I think I'll stay a while and count flakes

turns a puddle into diamonds, she says
and we spend an hour harvesting for the fairies

on the leaf like butter on my waffle, she says

it was past nap
cold nose, cold lips, she says
in her language I know so well
sad when the flakes stop falling
pick up, she says
in her language I know so well
when it didn't bring her any closer to the snowflakes
still, thick and grey and stuck in the clouds
she's ready
for the pacifier I made her leave inside

she's ready
for story time snuggles
first cup of hot chocolate with many mini marshmallows

mid-afternoon
Lucy runs into the kitchen
What, do you want the cake to get moldy?!
made the day before
she couldn't wait
I'd even heard her down stairs
in the middle of the night
Yes, I was down there checking to see if anyone had cut into it yet, says Lucy
she loves Daddy and cake and birthdays and
Boston Cream Pie,
the official dessert of Massachusetts and my heart,
it's easy to give their little hands kitchen control
there's so much perfection in pride:
it tasted delicious

dinner at a restaurant with a boat in the dining room is best

even better when friends are arranged to surprise the birthday boy
even when Lucy says
I'm not going to tell you, Daddy, who is surprising you at dinner
I'm not going to tell you, Daddy, that it isn't only us at dinner tonight
not her fault, she'd carried the secret around too long
and believes dinner with good friends is best
just like a weekend
when snow comes to the island
steady and slow and slight.
:::
joining Amanda

This Moment {first dentist appointment}

2012-01-13T08:40:00.000-08:00

A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

:::

She was so brave. In fact, she loved every minute of it.

Been Caught Stealin': Today's Mama, Wagon Avenger

2012-01-10T08:10:00.000-08:00

Truth: There's still a bit of a Massachusetts girl that lives inside me that isn't afraid to tell it like it is.
Truth: There's not much I won't do for my girls, especially if someone makes them cry.
Here's the Facebook status to prove it:
Wow. I pull my kids in the wagon to the movies, two girls steal it while we're watching the movie. I walk the streets of this tiny town, find them in our wagon, chase them down, snap a photo and get it back. Don't mess with this mama!

I wrote the entire heroically hilarious story in my Today's Mama column.

Wagon Avenger

Why? Mama, why? But it’s older than me and we’ve had it for so long! Why?In the damp grey cold of an early Sunday evening, hours before the year’s first full moon shone through thick, grey-flannel clouds, we walked to the movies...

Click [HERE] to continue reading.

Weekending: playmobile and puddles

2012-01-09T03:25:00.000-08:00

this weekend began with a lost dog,
this facebook status
Crazy dog, Tilly black lab great Dane, at large. Last seen running 50 mph down the yellow line of Argyle
three little ladies crying with the windows down

tearfully yelling, Tilly!

out minivan windows

splashed with rain.

we were rubbing her ear by the front door and she just bolted

it was really all our four year old's fault
and I couldn't believe I thought that and I knew that

and watching how sorry she felt just about did me in

must of thought she saw a squirrel,

I said

on our island without squirrels

she was found in a neighboring living room

eating beef bones and wagging on shag

thanks to an open door

thanks to the sheriff,

we were all reunited

this weekend I crossed off

half-marathon's first heavy training week

twelve weeks to go

I got up in the darkness and ran before the rain came

with lovely island mama pals

important tunes, important roadside conversation

at times I thought I wouldn't make it

then

there I was at my doorstep

clear headed, awake and smiling

all as the rain came

we packed up the train and brought out the playmobile

they created a

dream hair styles machine for each tiny figure

and did so,

changing hair and taking turns,
laughing and silly and happy

for four hours

After the sun set,

I put on lace-y tights and boots and mascara and lip liner

I spent the night with appetizers and fancy foods and funny ladies and

oh my goodness such needed conversation

then

there I was at my doorstep

at the exact time of my junior year of high school's curfew

remembering my mom in the basement doing laundry

warm brownies on the stove top

there was a sunburn

a new mix tape in my hand
friends at my side
cicadas and giant oaks behind

a memory so real and vivid

left me happier, still.

sunday's breakfast burritos

and our littlest girl in tiny undies

had me full on joy

sunday's matinee

and me finding myself avenging a stolen much-loved item

had me full on joy (in the end)

since I now have something really great, really funny to write my column about this week,

stay tuned

and here's to a happy week ahead

:::

joining Amanda

This Moment {wind}

2012-01-06T00:46:00.000-08:00

we drove to the beach for
an avalanche of salty seas
wind-sewn spirals
and really it was the grass
an invitation, an ovation:
cookie-batter twirls

{This Moment in so much wind}

A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

New Year's Words

2012-01-02T15:11:00.000-08:00

Avantouinti is the Finnish word for winter swimming,
Träumen is the German word for dream,
Elske is the Norwegian word for love,
Mod is the Swedish word for courage.

Decades drawn to New Year's tradition of polar swimming

I will if you will is the greatest response for a true friend's crazy idea.

It doesn't take much to propel me into something

just a quick,

no way I don't believe you can do that; no way you shouldn't do that

is all it'll take.

Only our children as audience

and really,

it's all we should ever truly see before us

as me move ahead

dip in a 46 degree salty, northern sea

would never have happened without

first pregnancy's swell

desire for a natural birth.

So much secure reflection

in proving doubt wrong

as we move ahead.

:::

1. Hug. I can remember all the greatest hugs I've had, and maybe it's the joy of a seldom-hugger like me. When I've needed them most, when I've least expected them, hugs have resonated into a happier, at times reminiscent, present. Picture my first t-shirt of 2012 Reformed Non-Hugger. I'm greeting 2012 with open arms.

2. Read. I'm carving out time for our family to behave as readers. It seems like I read after midnight, paragraphs lit by nightlight. I read to our children everyday, but I want to still our home as we all look at books independently. I want our children to see how I make time to sit and read from a much loved book each day amidst all that needs to be done. I remember my parents always making time for books, and memories of us all immersed in a chapter of our own some sunny sailboat afternoon are some of my favorites.

3. Write. I write in black ink, unorganized and prolifically. Napkins, ferry schedules and fancy journals all hold somethin' of a spark. In the last two years I've written two plays and am confidently moving towards another genre in 2012. In early October I received a manilla envelope with the most perfect, most amazing opportunity for a book. I need to carve out time for this project in order for it to become a beautiful manuscript, an exciting book held in eager, smiling hands.

:::

In keeping with my resolution number two, after brunch's bacon and extra sides of espresso I read a great article on Warren Miller entitled The Man Who Invented Winter. He lives on a neighboring island, shares my love of salty seas and snowy peaks and I'm rather smitten with the idea of calling him for a cup of coffee. I can't compare it to my suppressed urge to visit Salinger while an undergrad in New Hampshire by any means, but the conversation would undoubtedly be cool.

I've alway been a poet, and as I move though life I can say with certainty I'm a storyteller. It's in that belief, that one urge Warren Miller's quote resonates with me as I write this blog:

So I gradually became a storyteller. I didn't know whether I became the story or the story became me. But the desire to share what I did this weekend really became an important part of my life.

Happy New Year.

Thank you for coming here.

Today's Mama:::Time Together, From Santa

2011-12-31T00:10:00.000-08:00

I daydreamed about time alone for the better part of this year.
I yearned for an escape more tranquil, more nourishing than daily diaper folding.
I'd look up from a sink full of dishes and wish:
take me on piano keys.
September scribbled schedules,
left us pulled in different directions.
Then,
darkness came early on full plates
left us dancing
a rad routine
sometimes
a bit off beat.
Sometimes, we would
slow it down
tune the piano
compose a simpler piece,
peace,
for life.
This Christmas,
Santa delivered
Olive her coveted tube of tiny domestic cats

and a little secret getaway
with a map, a walk

and the most perfectly simple
night for play
with a message of just how to carve out our days
in the brilliant year to come.

Click to read Today's Mama: Time Together, From Santa

In my seven (and then some) ridiculously-awesome years as a parent, I covet adventure, memories and surprise. [click HERE to read more].

This Moment {sisters}

2011-12-30T03:51:00.000-08:00

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

Oh, Joyful Holiday

2011-12-28T23:15:00.000-08:00

Christmas Eve in our island's valley

an island family tradition we've been welcomed into

three years now

so nice to be welcomed into this

where Santa makes his appearance amid holiday ham, strong holiday punch, traditional live music.

I believe in Santa's magic, however fleeting
simply so wonderful she still wholeheartedly believes.

Santa: Olive's first crush.

Our Eve was fever-full at 103 degrees,
and we left the party early, just as the music began

our kitty, Slinky Chipa-wow-wow, played reindeer

as Luke spit out front porch's carrots and oatmeal

too bad there wasn't any snow for reindeer hoof prints
and we ate the cookies, drank the milk and we talked:
Of all the jobs we've had, Santa is definitely the best.

Lucy felt
too yucky to open gifts

Betty said
she deserves the first gift of Christmas

and happily began handing out and helping open gifts.

This year we had a quiet Christmas,

a much simpler time

Santa delivered the one gift they dreamed of
a cat family camper, a special baby doll, a jar of tiny toy cats - all different breeds
it's funny to think how we never could have chosen for them

Luke and I made a few, like
take so long to cut out fabric paper dolls
and the tiger that took me so long to knit

Olive wished so badly it was hers, Olive Tig-gy!
Luke loved his under-hardhat cap I knit
and we all got a good laugh from
stockings' silly gifts

while loved ones from around the country

wrapped and sent Oh it's perfect, Mama and No way I love it; Daddy look!

and our most favorite, most cherished will forever be

what our little darlings made us
a bag of little goodies, a stack of lovely drawings

and we hang on to the memory

of Olive opening gifts like her great grandmas, long since past

carefully, melodically
all the while slowly.

We hang on to the slow days

sleeping in late

pancakes at noon, smoothies every day

no snow,

but even with middle one's acute bronchitis

winter break is perfectly relaxing, perfectly simple.

As for tomorrow,

I think I'll let them jump on my bed for as long as they want...

Winter Solstice's Eve, 2011

2011-12-21T12:15:00.000-08:00

1. Paper Snowflakes on Windowpanes

I miss New England's distinct four seasons and snowy holidays. Today there's a bright sun balancing atop Evergreens and a blue sky. Today it's all mid-40s and bare ground. Yesterday was so grey, so cold that I checked my watch at 11:40 PM and wondered if the sun had set. Yesterday I wished very, very deep for a snowy holiday.
2. Tiny Gingerbread Sister Cookies

I love getting paper plates, wrapped in cellophane and loaded with holiday cookies. Sadly, I've never delivered any. In a season where it feels so great to give, I'm feeling bad about the lack of room in our days to bake for friends. We eat too many cookies, warm from the oven. Way past bedtime, large glasses of milk turn gingerbread bath, gingerbread pool. Maybe New Year's Day we'll bake mini loaves for our buddies, delivered in warm aluminum foil.
3. Magic

Last night, long after bedtime read alouds and sleep tight, Luke caught me at the dinner table smiling. I was shaking our globes of wonder, resting a cheek tableside and staring into our jars. I have always loved snow globes. I have a Twin Towers one from my middle school's late days, a hilarious Niagara Falls one with a tiny barrel and, seriously, too many more to describe. I told Luke we should have made these as wedding table centerpieces and our guests could have shaken them as we danced to Let it Snow. Luke said, Honey, we got married in July. Well, I said, snow globes never go out of season.

I used some jars we had, checked the discount ornament bin at our thrift store and followed this. The girls had a blast.

4. Stockings

It took me a few years to knit our family stockings. Now, I've finished. They're large enough for a loaf of bread, favorite baked item. Olive's was large enough to fit her two month self the year I knit it, and I love how we'll always own that memory. I have a Woof and a Meow one, since we'll always have a dog and cat in our home. I remember asking Luke if he wanted his to say Luke. He said, No way, I want it to say Daddy. It's the best thing I've ever been called and even when I'm seventy I want to remember how it was when each girl began calling me Daddy. It's just magical how memories weave into what we make with our hands.
5. Sweater

I hope I finish my first ever sweater for myself. I tweaked this pattern and it took me forever to rewrite it. I cast on fifteen rows down, made the sleeves longer, added a seed stitch and some length to the torso. I want to put a hoodie pocket on the front, knit an i-cord for a drawstring neck. It's looking like I won't have this blocked and wrapped for myself on Sunday unless I go knit.........now.
xoxo
:::
joining ginny today...

Weekending: Snowflake Confetti

2011-12-19T00:02:00.000-08:00

Weekending.
Saturday stayed pajama-happy
pancake and smoothie full
way past noon
two hours of tv, coffee, knits, and snuggles
stop-motion Christmas specials
Frosty, Jack Frost
My girls said they'd like to visit
The Island of Misfit Toys from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
where the cowboy rides an ostrich and the squirt gun shoots jelly
I couldn't agree more;
makes me feel as though I'm raising them right.
After a walk downtown
holiday present pondering,
candy cane devouring
an all out fit, tantrum over wanting to touch the jewelry store's crystal whale-etched champagne flutes for sale or something like that at a jewelry store
quickly reminded us why going in and out of crowded stores
with three kids at dinner time doesn't always work well.
Luke and I opted to pass on kids' macaroni and cheese
only after they fell fast into dreams,
all stuffed animal snuggles,
made homemade tortillas
ate slow
smiled long
talked in full thought, without interruption.
In proof that my man loves me
in truth, there's proof each day
he spent two days building shelves for my shoes

real slide-y ones
in the not-so-big closet we've shared for four years,
the closet with one rod and laundry baskets of: shoes, sweatshirts, ski long johns
now has order
and a smile every time I look at it:
Yup. It's the little things.
Today we stayed in pajamas
I tried my best to finish my first sweater for myself

my very own Christmas present
is coming along nicely.
We held a snowflake workshop
four year old fingers and safety scissors work well
it turns out our kitty likes
snowflake confetti: the bits and pieces of our craft.
Olive's older sisters spent two hours
making her Christmas gifts
I can't wait to see her open it
and She really loves Santa
and I bet she can open her own gifts now.

The sisters used my special Sharpie markers for wrapping paper's/brown paper bag's decorating
and special, lovely little things.
Yup. It's the little things.
There's so much love in the little things.
Weekend's end:
sharing a meal with good friends,
sharing a really good meal with good friends,

There's so much love in the little things.

:::
:::
linking with Amanda.

This Moment {Stuart Island}

2011-12-16T00:56:00.000-08:00

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

:::
The ad went something like this:

One-room, K-8 school on scenic, remote Stuart Island needs students. Low student/teacher ratio. Excellent educational opportunity. No power, phone lines, ferry service, paved roads, pollution or crime. Nearest store 3 miles by boat. Cellular phones and generator power possible. Planes and water taxis carry people, UPS, mail. Yacht tourists in summer, very quiet in winter. Positive environment for families. For more information, write Stuart Island School, Star Route, Friday Harbor, WA 98250.

The ad ran sixteen years ago, in Northwest Writer, The Crafts Report and Washington Homeschool Organization Newsletter, and it’s a beautiful thing that nothing has changed.

Ancient forests thick in giant Cedar and Pacific Madrone are home to wild sheep and deer while greeting tide line at Stuart's rocky shore.

There is no store on the island, only a wooden chest that Betty, four years ago, called Stuart’s Treasure. A local family prints t-shirts and postcards, and if you’re lucky enough to kayak or boat your way to these goods without cash or coin, you can pay by honor with their accompanying envelope. A glow-in-the-dark Pirates of The San Juans t-shirt is a cult favorite, and is always greeted with smiles, ahhhh, you've had the pleasure of being there when recognized around the country.

There are two airstrips, one with a grass and the other a dirt runway. A well-maintained harbor landing welcomed us with access and is a frequent site for sea deliveries.

Luke and Lucy reading outside Stuart Island Library, 2008

A self-service library and museum will easily hold a mind captive in narrative and island history, and a walk around the historic cemetery is an astounding read, an incredible experience.

Stuart Cemetery, 2008

I can tell you I really fell in love with Stuart Island in 2008 when we sailed there with good friends.

Good Catch, Lucy and Betty 2008

Lucy with Stuart Totems, 2008

Turn Point Lighthouse, peering out into the busy, chilly waters of Boundary Pass, is a worthy hike and a worthy subject. While researching for my first play Light at Limekiln which poetically explored life at San Juan Island's Limekiln Light, I was often sidelined with interest in Stuart's fascinating lighthouse keeping stories. Such history, such importance in these stories.

I last heard through post office’s waiting line conversation that twenty-two residents call Stuart’s 2.881 sq. miles home. One phenomenally creative and kind teacher takes roll as the only full-time island employee. I’m sure the island has its share of retirees, fishermen, telecommuters who have given up the accessibility of mainland or ferry-serviced island life. In present day, it's no secret communication with the world is easily defined by satellites, so people can choose to be as connected as they want to be.

Stuart Island School closed in 2007, reopened in 2008 with two students. For now, two students remain. Halfway up the rocky, steep County road that extends up from Reid Harbor is an old growth tree and the most beautiful, simple swing beside a moss-frosted forest.

Betty in 2008, Stuart Island Swing

The finale of a ten-minute walk is the school, adjacent to a pristine meadow, a perfect athletic field. Decades ago, the school won architectural awards and this remains clear through simplicity, charm and function.

The second schoolhouse built mid-century and operational until 1981 rests about fifty feet from the current one-room schoolhouse and serves as the coolest self-service library.

As a School Board member, I was invited to attend the school's well-reputed winter program. As a teacher, a parent, I've longed to see the school in session and was thrilled to have my family's company for the two student performance.

My experience today was incredible. I was in a public school. The audience was made up of island residents and off-island grandparents and family members like most elementary productions.

Our girls didn't know what to think of the 42 degree commute.

After remembering a few favorite knock-knock jokes and how to search for Orca whales they became less worried, more giggly.

Ever since working for the NEA's Poets on the Prairie program as a poet in rural schools throughout Montana and Wyoming, I've had a crush on one-room school houses. But my past work as an educator did not hold me as a mom, yet. There is something so profoundly different when you witness an education you dream for within your own children's lives.

I was in a public school today, but it felt so much more than that. I was welcomed into a home, into the intricate and poetically simple and abundantly beautiful way of life. To report on every detail feels as though I am telling secrets, and somehow making their incredible story my own.

I can tell you the two students are beautiful, deeply thoughtful and articulate siblings. Their learning, aligned as all stellar Washington State public education should, encompassed their own essential questions and interests. Using the scientific method, they studied NW birds, assembled variant feeders and reported through charts and graphs. They were passionate about the research, their new knowledge. The audience took part in a Jeopardy-style game of semester facts from research and hands-on experience. I learned so, so much. We listened to two amazing concerts: one piano, one ukulele.

I'm pretty sure I cried. I looked at their parents' faces, and my heart did the rest. It was that incredible. Then, there was a musical, written and starred in by the two students.

I made each of the students and the teacher a loaf of bread. As it was time to pack up, the mother of the two children came to me and said, You better not forget your butter. Luke had suggested I get some fancy, organic whipped butter in a tub to bring over. You know, it's hard to get and it's hard to make and it's really a luxury and, it's expensive. I explained how it was Luke's great idea and she was so thankful to have fancy butter. It made me realize how simple and beautiful life can be. How our days are really about the little things that make a difference, and how easy it can be to receive a smile.

Aside from not wanting to leave, I was reminded of that one Mary Oliver quote I've loved for a while that's gone justly viral this past year,

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

It became really clear in the frozen peaks of wave, the leaping pod of Dall's porpoises, the smiles

and giggles on my family members while zipping past islands en route to our own island -

I plan to have us do something like today for a while, for a short year or two or five
in our wild and precious life...

Weekending in Santa's Season

2011-12-11T23:14:00.000-08:00

Weekending.

It began with the middle girl and her middle ear infection,
tearfully sweetened with
a warm onion cheesecloth-compress
a new pony chapter book; a big sister read aloud
a real dinner.
Yup. We rose out of a dinner rut,
broke free from random quesadillas, supper pancakes
baked a chicken, chopped goodies for stuffing, oven roasted broccoli, winter garden salad
french dill loaf, gluten-free dill loaf
: and that was it, and that was about five hours in an apron,
dancing with little ladies into a wooden spoon of laughter.
So long since I'd made a proper meal
lost track of time, ate at eight o'clock.
In flannel pajamas with a full tummy
the middle lady said, I think I'll be just fine.
Friends came to drink coffee
way past the time drinking coffee is acceptable in most places,
with friends like these,
we'll
:turn on the porch light, grind the coffee beans
no matter the time
for good, hearty-laughing conversations.
Saturday morning's sunup
frozen fog
I left Daddy with the ladies, the pancakes, the spatula
and got a mocha, a few yard sales in
returned before ten, all smiles and patience,
arms full of treasures [oh my, even a vintage Lite Brite].
Hours filled with naps, Barbies
photo editing
slices and slices of day old bread jumping in the toaster.
Sunset found us at island's north
Santa's block party,

candy canes, hot chocolate
lighted boat parades

and that one picture I tried so hard to get:

Again, porch light turned on
for those same wonderful friends
drank black coffee past eleven o'clock
: so many good laughs.
Early morning ferry
my family held fort in minivan's impromptu early morning theater,
as I
read top deck at sunrise

Washington's educational budget and other School Board business.
I'm learning how to sift through pie charts, graphs, educational policy
while holding a highlighter
it's been a while
it's always easy with a view like this

Did I tell you I got elected to School Board?
I certainly did. Pretty exciting stuff.
and now,
more paperwork,
amongst friends
sitting here by a familiar tree
on a familiar, neighboring island
at the home of friends-like-family.
Wishing you a happy week, and don't forget to keep it real.
:::
linking with Amanda.

Today's Mama:::Henry David Thoreau Keeps it Real

2011-12-10T03:48:00.000-08:00

For days I've been editing a piece of writing, delaying my *submit for publication* with taps and taps in keyboard's delete. I can picture the endless swirls of red ink and withdrawing it's ragged edges of notebook paper from a writer's workshop. My mind was the real problem. It wouldn't stop spinning long enough for words to fall crisply adjacent to one another.
I have so much to say about how these last few too busy weeks have been. I've come to a place where I'm finally standing tall as a mama of three and I know exactly what I want to do with my time and exactly how I want to feel in my time.
I keep thinking back to an old friend whose words kept me awake at night in the middle of New Hampshire, in the mid 1990s.
Click to read Today's Mama: Henry David Thoreau Taught Me To Keep It Real.

Last month I bit off more than I could chew. It was a bit like stuffing a watermelon into a pocket designed for dimes, nickles in the front of a Vintage pair of Levis... [click HERE to read more].

This Moment {window shopping's crush}

2011-12-09T03:08:00.000-08:00

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. No words. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

This Moment {firstborn's birthday}

2011-12-02T03:27:00.000-08:00

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

Weekending all through November, 1-11

2011-11-29T03:43:00.000-08:00

1. Lucy: Bird Lover
Right now, Lucy is standing at our northern window watching birds. It's nearly 3:30 PM and the sun is almost setting. On her What I'm Thankful For tree at Montessori she wrote, I am thankful for all the birds in our world and their bird houses. For Christmas, she'd like to give our neighborhood birds a house she'll make in woodworking. She's talking about what nails to use, and what sort of perch to build as a front bird porch. Sometimes she runs into our home, not quite both shoes off, and perches to watch more birds from our window.
2. Theatre and Costume Design
In one restless blink, November evaporated into piles of thread on my sewing room floor. I ran myself ragged like an unhemmed edge of velvet for this island's Family Fall play. I've never before been off the page and beyond written word, and I must say I don't believe I'll take up a career in costume design, collection and construction. Really, I'm just so much better at writing. Keeping the pieces of a stage look together for a cast with numbers near seventy all the while washing Olive's diapers, volunteering at two schools and performing award winning acts like emptying our dishwasher made my plate feel full. Really, really full. The saying bit off more than I can chew has never sounded truer. I learned so much about myself, so much about the importance of working with friends and for friends along the way to opening night; so much about relying on the help and guidance of others to make it through. I learned so much about creating a character from the stage and remain most comfortable, still, creating a character from the page and believe I will stick to writing. I feel honored for my lessons learned. I feel honored to have been a part of such a well written, well directed play. I feel honored to have been a part of Betty's first play and I'm glad we shared the experience. It was incredible to see how many families helped out in the production, incredible to feel the sense of community.
Seriously, I'm still amazed at how many families helped out with smiles and love. I am so thankful to live on this island.
This I believe: it takes an island, it takes a harbor town to raise a child.
Olive was speechless on her front-row date to watch worker-bee Betty in the play Oh, No! Granny's Got the Remote! Of course she loved the musical, the familiar faces, the well-written dialogue. And, oh, the songs. Still singing those songs.

Lucy wanted to take just Daddy to the performance, so she sat ten rows behind us with her date. I peeked back to her at intermission and saw smiles of joy, of daddy-love.

After the finale Lucy ran, arms full of bouquet, to find her sweet big sister bee.

3. Baby by the Sea Meets Retail

As if November wasn't busy enough, my costume-designing pal and I had a booth at the local Artisan's Market. She sold her famous monkeys, while I sold some bibs, onesies, ornaments and skirts. For two days, we sold sewn goods amongst the island's makers. My lips are still chapped from so much smiling. I remain so, so thankful for each friend, for each customer who supported us. It'll make my heart swoon with pride as I begin to see my designs on little ones around me. I'm in the works of creating a way to sell them online. I'll keep y'all posted.

4. Knitty
For the first time in months, I'm filling my basket of finished knitted goods.
My sweet firstborn daughter turns seven in just a few days. She's wild about crazy colors together, bikes without training wheels and butterflies. I can't wait for her to wear the sweater that for some reason took me so very long to finish. It was supposed to be the first day of First Grade sweater. Alas, it'll be the first day of age seven sweater. I believe she's going to love this bolero.

Lucy's tiger is complete. I can't wait for her to snuggle it on Christmas morning.

5. Doll play is good play.

There's been a complete tornado of doll play around here lately. At times, I feel like I'm the mother to twelve girls. More times than I can count I've found myself completing the requested doll hairstyle as our clock approaches midnight, and throughout the day I button so, so many tiny dress buttons.

6. Waiting on a Bloom

It was July before we finally got around to planting our sunflowers, and it was September before we finally got around to basking in days and days and days of sunshine.

It was the first day of Fall before we witnessed a full bloom. It felt like nature's message to us as we stood in front of an unfinished addition, dreaming about the end date to our garage, our master bedroom, our sewing room/library. When our home finally opens up it may seem as though it was never going to happen, never going to work but when it does, it'll no doubt be beautiful.

7. Puddles
Our rain boots are forever by the front door. There are so many excellent puddles this time of year.

8. Horse Lessons
When I was a little girl, I rode a horse named Teiko. (Allison, do you remember?) She was brown, loved apples and me. Still, my favorite thing about riding horses as girl was brushing my horse-pal and cleaning hooves with a pointy, sharp tool. In high school, I left horseback riding for ceramics and photography studios. Each time I scored a piece of pottery with the pointy tool I thought back to my days cleaning horse hooves. Really. Crazy, I know. My husband has heard me talk about this too many times he says after which he always says you're a freak.
Lucy was able to choose what she wanted to do. She pondered ukulele, dance, taekwondo, gymnastics, piano for ten whole weeks before enthusiastically considering horse lessons. She was looking forward to feeding Whisper carrots and brushing her fluffy fur she said when she declared her choice.

At the dinner table, Luke couldn't stop laughing when she explained her favorite part: Daddy! I got to use this stick pointy thing to clean out all the dirt around Whisper's horse shoe. I loved it!

She couldn't wait to tell her favorite shetland pony Whisper a few great jokes on the first day and continues to wonder just what sort of jokes ponies like and is convinced horses laugh.
9. Adoption

Our island celebrated National Adoption Day with the adoption of a very special little girl. Just under a year ago she arrived into the home of my good friends and into the hearts of each and every person she's come to know. There was a love celebration, a courtroom clad in pink and red, adorned with hearts and bubbles and so many tears of joy. Her Papa said it best, There are no foster children, just children. There are no foster families, just families. There are no adoptive parents, just parents. There are no adoptive children, just children. There wasn't a dry eye during the ceremony and when he said this, I could think that there is only love and I believe dictionaries miss the mark with expanded definitions because it really is quite a simple thing indeed.
Her brother's emphatic yes said it all when the judge asked if he was ready to have a sister for always, forever.
So much love on this day.
I've attended a birth, and now I've attended an adoption and standing witness to those powerful moments will forever remain at the top of my love this moment list.
Really, it's insanely powerful stuff to stand before that much love.
All her best buddies looked on with love as my mind sped forward in time to when they're teenagers.

Oh, her buddies were so happy for her, adorned adorable in pink, all smiles and hearts and giggles.
Lucy wrote her a special note, all pink marker scribbles, circles and zig zags, I love you so much and I'm so glad you are a part of our island family.
On my way out the door, I swooped up the little girl of honor and I told her how excited I was to be a part of this special day. She looked at me and said did you know I get to be a sister forever? Today is a great day.
Sigh. Love that little girl.
10. Storms

Betty said November storms make the bare branches look like out of control windshield wiper blades against the windows.
Enough said.
Sixty mph winds with stretching, crashing waves on our shores are such a normal piece of November.
Flickering lights, power outages and down trees keep Luke busy this time of year.
Enough said.
11. Loose Ends
I'm excited to turn the page of a scribbled and full November's calendar, and not just because Betty's birthday is at December's start. I've got some very, very exciting bloggy news to report as December rolls along, and I look forward to coming here more. There's posts in the wings, too, that will receive their final edit. Like:
Oh. My. Goodness. My third baby, little miss Olive June turned two on Halloween. I can't wait to finish the edits on her birthday photos. It was a very, very special day.

Giveaway: Deep Blue Sea Designs

2011-11-22T03:27:00.000-08:00

My middle little lady loves pink, big fluffy bunnies and letters. She's writing beyond her name and is all about copying print from the world around her. She's more than just a little bit tickled pink to tuck six fabulous notecards into stationary's box at her desk.

My firstborn daughter carries a lunchbox to school each day. It's filled with homemade bread, her favorite snack of dehydrated bananas and always a love note from us. She's more than just a little bit excited to tuck each love letter [as she calls it] into corduroy's back pocket for lunch time's recess. I found a stack of her saved Alphabet Lunchbox Notes in her diary box.

Today I bring you a giveaway by Baby by the Sea sponsor Deep Blue Sea Designs. In the words of Heather:

Where the sea is deep and blue, I have been creating art of all kinds since I was a wee one. As a lover of handwritten correspondence, I has been writing letters to friends around the globe for a long, long time. Receiving letters in the mailbox every week is still one of my greatest joys.With the sea as my muse and letters as my love, I embarked upon a business of making and celebrating beautiful pieces of mail. Deep Blue Sea Designs was born. My process is joyful, my cards are extraordinary.I am reviving the lost art of correspondence.

I first came to grow to know Heather as an avid reader of her blog, Notes from the Deep End. This berry-lovin' mama of two offers a creative perspective on life in my old stomping grounds of Massachusetts.
I am head over heels for Heather's work in Deep Blue Sea Designs. I covet stationary with bold graphics and crisp white backgrounds and I love what she offers on her Etsy site. As a writer, I have always fluttered over finely milled papers and the lost art of a long letter penned in thick black ink, stuffed in a long linen envelope and kissed with a limited-edition stamp.

Baby by the Sea: Tell us about the beginning of your business.
Deep Blue Sea: I was pregnant with my older son, Eli, when I began getting inklings of something new. I knew that where I’d been professionally (and I’m being very generous with the term professionally) wasn’t where I wanted to be. I knew I wanted to be home with my son and I knew I needed to create. When Eli was born, I made his birth announcements. I’ve always been a maker of things, so this wasn’t revolutionary at all, but a friend happened to remark offhandedly, “Why don’t you go into business?” That was my big a-ha moment. It’s been a natural, gradual unfolding since then.

I guess my business was birthed with Eli and the success of my business was birthed with my second son, Soren. I think pregnancy was a period of creative gestation in both instances and with birthing came a surrender that I really believe allowed a whole lot of good stuff to flow in….

I have the inner mantra of every maker: more, more, more. My hands want to be busy.
Baby by the Sea: What Inspires you? Is there a quote you're fond of these days?
Deep Blue Sea:

I feel so alive and connected when I’m in nature. There’s just so much for my senses to feast upon. I was walking the other day with Soren and two swans flew overhead. They were so low that we could hear their wings sing. My little one looked up with such wonder and joy on his face. I love it when a beautiful moment sneaks up and captivates me. Nature is the primary catalyst, but really anytime that there’s a little stillness in my day, there’s opportunity for inspiration. I could be up to my elbows in a soapy sink washing dishes and bam! I have a flash of something amazing, it could be the beautiful, scrappy beginnings of a new design or project.

I just finished reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Murial Barbery and I loved this:

“What does Art do for us? It gives shape to our emotions, makes them visible and, in so doing, places a seal of eternity upon them, a seal representing all those works that, by means of a particular form, have incarnated the universal nature of human emotion.”

Baby by the Sea: Have you always been a maker? How does design and art fit into your daily routine?
Deep Blue Sea: I have the inner mantra of every maker: more, more, more. My hands want to be busy. Art and design just filter organically down through our daily activities around here. Eli’s fire-ninja costume just flew off my sewing machine in time for a party and Soren has a little sweater that’s due to come off my knitting needles any day now. There are scones in the oven, a sourdough starter that’s percolating and a few ideas being worked out on our fridge that’s painted entirely with chalkboard paint. The drum sets will come alive with thumping at some point today, legos will be engineered into technologically-advanced vehicles, garlic will be planted, food will be plated thoughtfully… art and design are just mediums through which we can live our lives most beautifully. I love it.
Baby by the Sea: What ritual/tradition makes your family unique?
Deep Blue Sea: My husband is a musician and our house is often filled with spontaneous song. Mostly the songs are rambunctious in nature, but there are beautiful, quiet ones as well. It’s pretty wonderful to have a family repertoire of songs.
Baby by the Sea: Tell us about your background? What lead you to the work you do today?
Deep Blue Sea: I’ve been a letter-writer forever. My good friend from college has been my bicoastal pen pal for 15 years. It’s so special. We write letters every week and really, it’s our main form of communication with each other. I used to be such a freak for buying stationery and note cards, so it’s pretty logical that I wound up making my own. I still have an overflowing stationery drawer, but now it’s with all my “seconds”. It’s all those cards with the blips and mishaps. Fortunately, Becca doesn’t mind getting the reject stationery. It’s especially funny when she gets the personalized stationery seconds that say, “Paul” or “Benjamin” on them. That cracks us up. I really value handwritten correspondence. You get a piece of someone through penmanship; their voice comes through more vividly on paper. And it’s nice to hold the card or notepaper that they chose to scribe their letter. It’s a lovely tactile experience. It takes a bit of time to write a letter, it shows that you value someone enough to slow down and share. I really believe that handwritten correspondence is an art worth upholding.
I don’t have any professional training in art or graphic design. I’m trained as a dancer, actually. I danced until my first pregnancy and then the desire to be at home with my son really became my main focus. I guess I could always sketch a little, and have always had an eye for design, but I’ve learned the bulk of my skills bit by bit. When I look at the work that I was doing 6 years ago and compare it to where I am now, I’m totally floored. And it makes me so excited for where I’m going to be down the road. Expansion is a wonderful thing!
Baby by the Sea: What is your favorite word?
Deep Blue Sea: I’ve always thought that jubilation rolled off the tongue in a particularly delicious way. I also like chirp and pluck. They’re cute, concise and satisfying. Squirrely is pretty great. And yesterday I said shenanigans and thought, now there’s a word that I really should use more….
:::

For today's giveaway, Deep Blue Sea Designs is offering the following gifts:

One lucky reader will receive Alphabet Lunch Notes

One lucky reader will receive a package of Handmade Note Cards

~ TWO lucky winners will receive a package of in the mail.
Extra chances:
Check out Deep Blue Sea Designs on Etsy.
Check out Deep Blue Sea Designs' awesome blog Notes From the Deep End.

Her life is painted in such lovely prose, sweet pictures.
And if you're not already, become a follower of Baby by the Sea.

Thank you to Deep Blue Sea Designs!

~~To enter, please leave a comment in today's post.~~

~~Comments will close on Monday by 9pm PST.~~
Congratulations to Tracey and 6512 & Growing;
please send your mailing address.

this Moment {11.11.11's eve}

2011-11-11T00:00:00.000-08:00

the best 27 minutes of my week

leads up to an early sunset

48.6° F water

driftwood foraging

salt swims

somewhat accidental

splashes all the same

such a nice break

from sewing, sewing, sewing

so calm

this

all of it

[us]

before the gale winds

meet tonight’s full moon

light fades at 4:39

finds us soaking wet,

bundles of driftwood

under each arm

and all I want

is the time to write

this

all of it

[and]

about our littlest baby

who turned two

on Halloween.

soon,

I promise.
:::
{This Moment}
A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
~joining Soule Mama

Today's Mama: I Found Love in her Backpack

2011-11-08T04:46:00.000-08:00

I've lived by the sea since pregnant with our firstborn, and remember in crisp detail each first steps each little lady took on sand, each first rock each little lady tossed into salty seas.
Honestly, it doesn't feel like much time has sailed by since our almost-seven-year-old wore diapers.
She sings to pop radio favorites, still sleeps with her baby blankie and a score of dolls and stuffed friends.
She says words like crush, marry and kiss in sentences about recess and best friends while my husband and I instantly lose our appetites.
In this week's Today's Mama piece entitled I Found Love in her Backpack I wrote:
With a daughter buoyant on age seven’s cusp, my heart holds her in a sling still, my eyes blink to behold her tall, lean, beautiful. I’ll never get over how amazing it is to have a whimsical little girl version of my husband.
Sometimes when I’m braiding her long hair, laughing at her jokes about a pirate’s favorite letter in the alphabetRRRRRR it is like we’re college roommates, scheeming over lattes, planning art projects.
This morning amid oatmeal’s steamy rush, I came across a crayon love note while digging in her backpack.
[click HERE to read more].

Weekending [daylight savings 2011]

2011-11-06T16:22:00.000-08:00

A giant storm front,

the weekend began with

cold, heavy fog, frost
framed island's Evergreens
iced pavement's school path
made grass
nature's popsicle.
Saturday,
noon until dinner
I sewed, pinned
costumes for theatre's
Fall Family show
thankful
to job share with a good friend
thankful
for the spotlight at the end of the tunnel [stage].

Saturday,

I waited until the clocks turned back

with coffee, hip hop

I sewed an extra hour

skirts, skirts and more skirts

for November's Artisen's Market.
I've been calling myself a sewer
since I was 8
redesigning Barbie clothes
creating teddy bear night gowns
tiny bags for acorns, sea shells, bottle caps.

I shifted along these lines:

joy, in seeing my creations on people

stress, in turning what I love into a job

delirium, in needing more than five hours of sleep.

Our 1950s steel ironing board

Luke carried

to house's front

for a photo

we laughed really, really hard about

extreme ironing,

where extreme sport meets performance art

as cars drove down our street
and I wrote in my head
a ten minute play.

I've been calling myself a writer

since I first heard

David Bowie's Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust in middle school

I've been a writer

since filling vintage suitcases

with papers, composition notebooks in black ink

and fell in love with teaching writing

working for NEA's Poets on the Prairie

and fell in love with teaching how writers write.

As an educator, I love writer's workshop:

brainstorm, write, edit, illustrate, publish [or read aloud]

and can't believe Betty is really there.

In Sunday's extra hour

two little sisters napped extra long

so Betty

wrote about Forest Fairy Lily

I sipped black coffee

with pride's sideways smile

for my little writer.
p.s.
and I'm pretty sure I finished all the halloween candy
dashing around corners
so the ladies couldn't see
while wearing running clothes
especially enjoying ten mini Reese's packs
during the run
I never took.

:::
linking with Amanda today from the habit of being.

This Moment {turning two}

2011-11-04T00:10:00.000-07:00

{This Moment}
A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want topause, savor and remember.
~joining Soule Mama
:::
This week's moment was simply special and extraordinary.
I am still paused, savoring and remembering everything about the week when
our tiniest pumpkin

turned two

on Halloween

This Moment {seattle's alaskan way viaduct}

2011-10-27T23:48:00.000-07:00

{This Moment}
A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
~joining Soule Mama
:::
History through a Lens
The Alaskan Way Viaduct
is an early 1950s double-layer asphalt highway waffle cone
that drips along
Elliot bay in Seattle's Industrial District,
Downtown.
The Alaskan Way Viaduct
follows previously existing railroad lines, north-south,
was rattled to its core
damaged
in the 2001 Nisqually earthquake.
Our recent weekend getaway
for love, for love of music
held us one block north of The Viaduct.
Traffic hysteria, petrol logjam
rose as demolition and removal began
the day our getaway began.
We checked into our room
amid Belltown's
Battery Street
Tunnel's hum.
Hours later,
back on pavement
on foot
we heard
only sirens and people asking for change and crosswalk bells and police cars and a firetruck in the distance and rain and rain
we didn't hear
traffic.
We stood on top of
Battery Street Tunnel
to snap a photo
after the last car had left
which was way before we got there
to snap a photo
after the first people came across in ceremony, in memoriam
on foot, on bike
which was way after we left there.
Sometimes
we're in
just the right place
at
just the right time
to record
just the right piece of local history.

Weekending in Love

2011-10-24T13:58:00.000-07:00

Weekending.
It began in steady grey rain,
as all wonderful trips must
as we sat with ferry's ocean view
as we said, it's a strange thing
to ferry without children:
no endless loops aboard top deck,
no diaper changes in a diesel-rattling restroom
no puzzles in the galley.
We sat in the quiet
as we said, it's a fabulous thing
to ferry without children.
Watching Meek's Cutoff on the iPhone
we realized the only way to make it worse
would be to watch it standing up in a hot theater
eating endless salty popcorn, deprived of drink.
Sometimes watching a bad movie with Luke
is funnier than any comedy out there.
He cracks me up until my side hurts.
It had been 1/4 of a year since we traveled to the mainland together:
it's a strange thing to drive over 35 mph,
it's a strange thing to drive in a ten lane highway,
all rain and drizzle, horns honking.
We parked in a back alley
bookended in awe-smiling graffiti.

The Ace Hotel:
love it.

Seattle's Belltown neighborhood, blocks from Pike's Place Market.

Fresh, hip:
funk's charming feel. Murals, terrariums, hip match books for the taking.

I recognized a Peabody, MA accent from the fine front-desk gentleman at vintage wooden stairs' base.
It would be hard or haud for me to lose the part or paht of Massachusetts inside me.
We spoke of:
The Big E, the eastern states fair to beat all fairs every September in The Pioneer Valley.
Vermont, and a slice of extra sharp cheddah on top of a pie.
3 children and this as our 3rd time away in nearly 8 years.

We got an upgrade to a king suite yeah, east coast hook up. We smiled cool, no shared bathroom.
Inside 116:
easy to find the balcony, the Bruce Lee movie on TV standing in a room so close to his grave.
But all we saw was one big mirrored wall.
Oh, it pivots. So freakin' cool.
[Insert ten minutes of spin, spin, spin, stop, walk through, spin, spin..]
We played a Scooby Doo secret passage scene from a 70s childhood memory before settling in for a nap.
Golden moment: deciding we want to nap and taking a nap. Pure luxury.
The nap came after eating candy before dinner, not sharing our packages of peanut M&Ms. Pure luxury.

After walking a few blocks to the bar,
a Seattle City Arts Festival site,
we entered into a narrow if-these-walls-could-sing sort of theater
not much larger than our living room.
Intimate like this:
hearing fingers slip along guitar strings,
noticing eye color of a bassist,
studying guiarists' tattoos
feeling breath atop microphones,
trying to keep my left arm from moving because the three charm bracelets I wear for each daughter chattered louder than the banjo, the violin, the harmony.
Before this evening,
I would have told you
Phish, 1990 in Northampton, MA
was the tiniest and most incredible venue I'd been a part of,
if you discount the kitchen concerts of college farmhouses in the late 90s.
I didn't talk with each musician personally,
but I know we share a similar musical lineage
where Neil and Bob and Townes and Gillian sing inside our heads.
After each show,
we bought their vinyl,
refilled our beer,
shook their hands.
Some of their moms were there sitting
behind us, beside us.
We knew The Rendezvous felt like home to them,
and we were
so happy to be inside this:
Bryan John Appleby [HERE] picked up where we left off at Doe Bay
and is clearly soaring to the top of local performers:
poetic songwriting;
songs unfold beautifully like Northwest fog.
Joseph Giant's [HERE] gravelly voice was raised on Willie Nelson and fine tuned in the NW punk scene. Now, he's all Ballard trucker country in white jeans and it sounded just fine to us.

Smokey Brights [HERE]:

happy. The electric back and soul-y folk brings me back to nights with Moon Boot Lover in New Hampshire's smokey bar. It's impossible not to sway and smile to these tunes. I remember feeling this is perfect listening to them at Doe Bay Fest.

Now, these dudes are so excited to start their Fall tour it felt great to be

happy for them, happy with them.

Sons of Warren Oats [HERE]

I fell head over heals when I stumbled upon The Maldives' lyrics at Doe Bay Fest. Luke was smitten and their CD has been happily stuck on repeat in his truck's not-so-sweet sound system.

Sons of Warren Oats is a sampling of insane acoustic strings and on-point lyrics from Maldives, Moondoggies and other Ballard besties.

We listened at stage's edge to tunes on a borrowed guitar and I couldn't help but think

if I wrote songs, I'd want to do it just like this.

I'd bet they're written in black ink.

Near 2 in the morning, new vinyl tucked under my arm,
we smelled pizza and walked in and got a slice to go. Awesome.
We live on an island where just about everything closes at 9 so this was pretty damn amazing.
We sat up in our hotel room and watched some black and white movie about a fly that turned into a girl in distress. I nodded off, pizza in hand and woke to some shoot-em-up Godzilla flick in black and white. Hotel television at its best.
At 10 in the morning I woke, hot coffee and fresh waffles beside room's white stillness.
So nice to sleep in.
So nice to not change a diaper,
so nice to not wake up at 6.
Seattle:
here the poles are covered in staples
& Chuck Norris do-it-yourself ads.

We stumbled into Luke's dream,
which could have been advertised under:

For Guys Who Carry a Leatherman and drink PBR and like strange old wooden tools, hard-to-find files and dusty hardware from the 1950s.
It was fun to look around. There was dusty weird stuff everywhere.

We got lost driving in Seattle.
Really, really lost.
The Viaduct was closed, about to be torn down
telling stories about Boston's Big Dig
and scaring drivers, commuters for tough times ahead.
We couldn't figure out how to get to Ballard without Viaduct's 99.
I know.
It was raining,
people were honking,
there was stand-still traffic,
red lights.
We were hungry,
in need of espresso.
We got even more lost.
We pulled over.

14 Carrots: all-day breakfast place.

Right. In. Front.
Perfect for a Saturday
all free range eggs with goat cheese and herbs
with yummy bacon chunks
and a delicious frothy mocha.

Yup. It was a wonderful date weekend.
Loved every minute of it well, maybe not the traffic part.
Love him and everyone we've created.

It was nice to have the opportunity to miss the little ladies.
I'm soaking up extra hugs today.
Have a wonderful week.
:::
linking with Amanda today from the habit of being.

This Moment {dessert date}

2011-10-21T00:00:00.000-07:00

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. No words. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

~Soule Mama

:::

My middle lady and I are so much alike. In. So. Many. Ways.

I prefer the term clashing brains to butting heads.

My middle lady is rather witty. I love how she makes me nod my head, show a side smile or laugh until my side cramps.

But lately, our brains have been clashing. In. So. Many. Ways.

It's hard being a big sister, a little sister, a daughter, a four-year-old.

It's hard being so amazing.

It's hard in the middle.

On Tuesday night we walked to a fancy restaurant and ordered dessert.

Just the two of us; just like best friends.

Somewhere between the cannoli and the brownie fudge sundae we found our way.

I love to ask what she's thinking; she doesn't always tell me what's on her mind.

On this particular night, at this particular moment I thought,

I'm so glad I asked. What a beautiful mind.

Our Life in Apple Pie

2011-10-19T03:31:00.000-07:00

This is one of my favorite pictures, from one of my favorite mama-of-two memories:

well, actually it's this photo:

I remember: Luke worked an outage, the girls and I picked apples from the dance-class tree.
I remember: we shared an apple pie for dinner, melted Vermont extra sharp cheddar atop. We ate the whole pie, whole cream-atop milk glazed our lips.
I remember: we made a side of maple-sugar bacon. We ate the entire pound.
I [will always] remember: apple pie loves bacon.
I remember: going onto bed rest a few days later.
I remember: Lucy wore great-grandma's apron.
I remember: the girls took turns using the rolling pin Luke first used during the long night of my first labor. I told Betty this and she said, oh yeah. I remember feeling that as I began to think get-me-out-of-here.
I [will always] remember: how fantastic rolling pins are for back labor.
I remember: their hands and her tiny feet kicking as the pie baked.
I remember: we spoke of boy names while we ate our pie, and while Betty ate her banana pie, certain I held their little brother within.
I remember: Betty said, it doesn't matter if it really is a boy or girl because we are going to love it so much either way.
I feel time will pass and I'll remember this as the last thing we did together, before bed rest with our third and before our third daughter was born. Before I wrote tonight, I looked at this picture. It's funny to look back on the original post and read how my details change, sort, stick.
Each September I'll bake an apple pie from this exact recipe and remember how it felt to hold my three daughters so close in our kitchen.
This Maine Apple Pie and Pastry recipe can be found in the original post [HERE].

Margorie Mosser's Good Maine Food with notes by Kenneth Roberts.

Hot Water Pastry

1/2 cup boiling water 3 cups flour

1 cup butter, unsalted 2/3 tsp baking powder

2 1/4 tsp salt

Pour boiling water over room temperature butter in a stainless bowl. Beat with a fork until it is a smooth liquid. For best results, I like to half submerge the bowl in a sink of very hot water. Sift flour, salt and baking powder into the liquid. Stir together and chill on parchment paper. Roll out. Since the air here is salty and humid, I like to roll it out between two pieces of parchment paper.

Luckily, the girls are exceptional crust rollers.

Apple Pie

Line a pie dish with pastry. Pare, core and slice tart, juicy apples. I like to dip them in a bath of cold water sprinkled with lemon juice and salt to keep them from turning brown. In this process we learned how good of an apple peeler Betty is. Place them in the bottom of the dish on their sides and close together. Add 3/4 raw organic sugar, 1 tsp cinnamon and dots of butter. Wet edges of bottom crust's rim, put on upper crust, pressing the two together with a fork, using a crisscross pattern. Before placing the top pastry, we used a favorite cookie cutter shape, just for fun. Bake at 450 for ten minutes, then reduce heat to 350 for forty minutes, or until done. Bake on bottom rack for best results.

Now, I like to use our cast iron apple peeler, corer that mounts to our counter. It stacks the slices so perfectly in the slice. The girls really like to crank the handle, too.
:::
And so, as Fall begins and Halloween nears I hold firm my fingers on my stretch marks formed from this third daughter and bake an apple pie. I've been baking this exact pie a lot lately: always Vermont extra sharp cheddar atop, never anything except exactly what we were looking for inside.

:::
Happy Wednesday, Happy Fall
Happy Apple Pie Season.
:::
up next...
Knitting News: The sweater's done, just needs a button. The lion's done, just needs eyes.
Reading: Blankets by Craig Thompson

Weekending into Wellness

2011-10-17T10:45:00.000-07:00

[In words, then pictures]

Wellness came slow
after a week in quarantine,
canceled trip across the state,
If you get on the ferry, you shouldn't get out of your car,
said the Health Department.
Three kids and six days inside,
always a tear, a cough to fill the moments.
I enjoyed the days in fleece pajamas, the stories read
and the snuggles and hand holding,
naps stretching into afternoon's darkness,
pancakes for supper and
movies with Rainbow Bright, My Little Pony, Barbie's Charm School
(or, as Olive called them Bright-Bright, Pony-Pony and Barbs).
But, getting out meant only letting the dog out
and I started to feel so locked up.
All signs pointed to pertussis,
There's an outbreak on the island,
said the Health Department.
We had our vaccinations, but that didn't matter.

All signs pointed to pertussis;

we took all our meds
and coughed long into the night.
Friends called, dropped by mochas and food and love,
a stack of trashy celebrity magazines.
We continue to wait for the swab results,
but whatever it is,
it's left us
and we all left the house for this:
Day Seven, America Camp

:::
linking with Amanda from the lovely The Habit of Being

This Moment {okctoberfest}

2011-10-14T11:24:00.000-07:00

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. No words. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

Whoop, Whoop Wednesday

2011-10-12T15:29:00.000-07:00

I hear other people get stuff done by letting things slide. Well, my dishes are piled, the laundry is stacked while two daughters have whooping cough. Things are sliding, alright.
We oped to do a delayed vaccination schedule on our girls a la Dr. Sears, but this was one of the vaccinations we set to schedule. There's only about 80% immunity, which makes me wonder why I did it in the first place. Oh well. So there's tears and coughing and sleepless ladies. I've let everything go. I've decided to come here for a few minutes. It's sort of like socalizing, sort of like leaving the house, sort of like talking to another adult, right?!
I need to remember how this moment feels when it's summer and sunny with wellness around and I'm asked to volunteer for something. This is exactly when the doing my stuff gets tricky. Three babes, ill and skies grey and chilly all around. It's times like this when the I can't do another things comes after deciding to forgo brushing my hair, making myself a meal or changing out of pajamas. It's times like these I wish for a winding country road dotted with family. Times when there's a pile of skirts to finish for the November market and stacks and stacks of costumes for the fall play to, well, start and then finish. It's times like these I am so thankful for friends like family, for friends who deliver mochas.
Here we are. We're not on a beach, we're not at our best. We'll laugh along the way, sometimes while we're wiping tears. We'll make it through. We always do.
I'm weaving in loose ends for this bolaro. It began as a first day of first grade sweater and has evolved to be the seven year old birthday sweater for December. Betty is going to love it. I knit it with a Cascade yarn Betty picked out and loved working the repetitious stockinette sleeves to end my days. Like a mantra, the calming clang of the stainless double pointed needles near midnight got me centered and bed-ready.

I can't get enough of this book. I actually hugged it after I was done. A work of art and, really, it's like nothing I have ever read before. Not since The Namesake, Persepolis and Middlesex have I dashed around corners to sneak a few pages and have I closed my eyes to really feel and know the characters. The drawings are brilliant, the story meandered through my heart.

The girls can't stop writing mistakes to use their creations with this Eraser Clay. It was such a fun way to hold them busy and happy while I made dinner. As we ate, our erasers cooked.
There's more tears, more spooky whooping coughs in the neighboring room.
:::
Inspired by Ginny and Yarn Along.

Today's Mama: I {heart} Music, Always

2011-10-05T22:01:00.000-07:00

I was once a tiny baby girl napping in the v-bearth of my parent's first sailboat, Seafarer. It's namesake is an old poem from a surviving manuscript of Old English Poetry.

	"Mæg ic be me sylfum	I can make a true song
	soðgied wrecan,	about me myself,
	siþas secgan,	tell my travels.."

The Seafarer, poem can be found [HERE].

I was not-yet two, tucked in with giant headphones on. Somewhere there's a picture of this, and it's one of my favorites. No doubt, I was listening to Moody Blues, Fleetwood Mac or Pink Floyd.
I have always been defined by music.
Olive June sleeps to a Bob Marley playlist, and I love to listen to our baby monitor and hear my sweet pumpkin's rendition of Don't Rock My Boat,

don't wok mine boat, don't wok my boat...no no boat...mine

The most time I spend in a car these days is waiting on a ferry. Long trips do come, with days entirety to drive across our state it's both unfamiliar and unlike New Enlgand's three states in an afternoon. The airtime is broken with potty pitstops, snack requests, Mama I dropped my ___, and squabbles over turns with a certain toy, book or what have you.
:::
In this week's Today's Mama piece entitled I {heart} Music, Always I wrote:

Some days are like this: unattended tasks stack like prairie grass without a clearing in sight.

Or, like songs on iPod’s shuffle where I never know which one to skip.
Songs have always been defined by their driveability. Neil Young still gets air time, but his lyrics rarely get my full attention.

.. [Click HERE to read more}.

Weekending into October

2011-10-03T23:12:00.000-07:00

Friday night I declined mama-pals, wine, laughter
cut skirts for November's Artisan's Market
now 18 skirts under my (pressure foot) belt
up early Saturday,
pancakes, coffee, soccer games
en route to field, but mama, it seems like he really wants the ball I mean he talks about it a lot at school so I think I'll just let him have it, I mean he's like my best friend and even though he's on the other team..but I won't let him score on me I mean I have to draw the line somewhere
on the field, all smiles and manners
on the forecast, all fog and rain
on the playground all monkey bar lessons and slides
onto farmer's market trek with pals
with afternoon's apple plans
and by the time we were ready it was
all rain and rain and rain

apples, rain,

more apples to pick, pears, rain

so fun to have friends with a farm with apples to share
so fun to hear our tiny one say
more apple, peas

Dinner, bed time stories and a hot bath
or was it the other way around
before midnight sewing gave way to two o'clock in the morning sewing
before October's Sunday morning with socked in fog
became asleep until nine o'clock in the morning
all five of us, pets too
and I savored every moment under the quilt, knowing it could be another season until
we all wake, late
and we all move slowly
through coffee and juice and eggs and gluten-free duck-egg pancakes
then:
them on board games, me on the sewing machine
them at the playground, me at the theatre.
Sunday afternoon I measured actors for Fall production's costumes,
feeling like I must be in the best place I've ever been
really
the costume shop was the icing on my lifetime love affair with Halloween,
sort of like the best vintage shop on the planet
and they handed me keys to it all,
all wigs and sewing room and animal costumes and heels and
you name it. Everything. Meticulously organized.
So, if every month can't have a Halloween,
at least I can make the most out of this spooky season, right?
The costume shop is amazing,
take-my-breath-away amazing
like Olive and her horse-y mama sling

like Lucy and her crazy style

like Betty

and the games she plays.
:::
linking with Amanda from the lovely The Habit of Being

This Moment {Walking Home from School}

2011-09-30T03:18:00.000-07:00

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. No words. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

Giveaway: Paula West Pottery

2011-09-27T03:38:00.000-07:00

Sometime ago, before undergraduate/graduate degrees and babies I lived off Longmeadow Street in Massachusetts and fell head over heels with photography and ceramics. My high school held me content in studios and dark rooms and lacrosse fields. Twenty years later I share an island with a talented ceramics artist who grew up, leading rather similar earlier days, less than two miles from my childhood home.

Sometime ago, before the days grew shorter and while the sun hung brighter I drove down an island rode that extends to greet the sea.

It is with great pleasure I introduce you to Paula West Pottery. It was an honor to spend a morning with her, to watch her hands craft and to listen to her heart.

Today I give the poetic and thoughtful words of Paula:

Baby by the Sea: What inspired you to start your own business? How do you keep yourself motivated and inspired?

Paula West: I was inspired to simply be able to do it more, and by more I mean more of the time than just a hobby. I really didn’t think abut the business part as much as just being able to work in the studio. I really felt the determination to want to make it work, to make it successful so that it is what I can keep doing.

Keeping creativity motivated and inspired involves just keeping with it. It’s a challenge, so I take breaks when I need it. Sometimes I just need to do what I need to do to feed my family, always remembering that breaks help me avoid the drudgery that makes it feel like a job.

If I just make things that sell it would take over my inspiration to create new pieces. Sometimes I just need to take a break from it all and I go get outside.

It's been five years doing this full time and it's just this past year I’ve felt, wow I have to make more mugs because they're in demand! With enough balance, it's great and I'm so lucky to have to go throw mugs.

Baby by the Sea: What pieces do you feel most known for?

Paula West: I'd say I'm most known for my mugs.

Cups are things that are most usable and most easy to relate to. It's such an intimate thing to use, to casually put to our mouth and something we use everyday. I believe things we take into our lives and use each day are flattering to have the opportunity to create.

Baby by the Sea: Tell us about your background. What lead you to the work you do today?

Paula West: I've always enjoyed working with my hands. In high school I began with knitting and sewing. Then, I started clay in high school with a great pottery teacher.

I was drawn to the usefulness of creating something artistic.

I enjoy working with my hands and making things I can use.

In college, I can remember the look and smell of touring studios and thinking, wow people do this?

I took studio classes with a ceramics focus.

I ended up working for a potter in California. I saw an ad for an assistant in CA, so I packed up and went down there and landed in a studio and stayed with her. It was life changing. She was very open I worked with her for a while. She made functional pieces, so it was a great opportunity learning about selling and running a business.

In 1993 I moved here, I slowly acquired equipment, set up this studio. One summer I met Joe, now a cabinetmaker with Ravenhill Construction. We had kids and figured out how to get an hour or two of work in with the baby monitor - I was determined. For five or six years I did Folk Life, Bumbershoot and Duck Soup, and thought I've got to see if I can make money with it or else I’ll always wonder if I can make it! We weren't ever necessarily going to stay here, but now here we are. I think that's the story of a lot of islanders.

Baby by the Sea: Let's talk about your business. What's your big secret?

Paula West: Well, it's the constant shifting from other work and how that shifting plays out. Once I let go of other work, my current works evolve into wonderful things. As far as money and successful business practice, it is successful in that I make what I made when I was working outside of this current space, this studio.

Baby by the Sea: What is your favorite/most challenging part of the job?

Paula West: To pull something out of the kiln and it see that it works and it so just so comes together. Everything has something to it that is so appealing. Throwing and making work, oh there are just so many aspects: decorating, carving.

Sometimes there is difficultly in 24 pieces that need trimmed feet and its repetitive and it feels like a hurtle to finish one piece at a time and find a groove.

Sometimes there's disappointment in a crack where I think, I had this figured out and what happened; why did all my handles crack?

Baby by the Sea: How does the balance of work and family play out for you?

Paula West: Hmmm...it's constantly a challenge to balance working at home. I love being with my boys and I love how I can check on them. At 12 and 15, they don’t need to be by themselves for too long. I need to be close enough to say, put down the video game, pick up the book or put down the chips and go outside. So, they're good boys. So, here I am, close next door working and far from being distracted by laundry. There are times when I'm so in it, you know, working all day. Sometimes I just have to set time aside and say ok we’re going to the beach and it feels balanced. But there are times when it isn't that easy. Sometimes family suffers and sometime work suffers. Before we know it our boys will be gone, so we're trying to appreciate the distraction of our boys because before we know it they’ll be gone.

:::
For today's giveaway, Paula West Pottery is generously offering the following gift to ONE lucky winner:

~ This wonderful little pitcher is high in functionality, making a great creamer, vase, maple syrup server, or just about anything your heart can dream up.
It's art, so it looks exquisite sitting atop a piano or shelf. You'll love it.

Thank you to P aula West Pottery!

~~To enter, please leave a comment in today's post.~~

~~Comments will close on Sunday by 9pm PST. Winners will be chosen by Random Number Generator and announced in this post Monday~~ ~~morning.~~

Paula West Pottery.

Check out Paula West Pottery on Etsy.

Find Paula West Pottery on Facebook.

And if you're not already, become a follower of Baby by the Sea.

So excited to pass a little piece of the island to Mama May I.
[Thank you Random Generator for answering my wish on crossed fingers.]

Weekending into Fall in Pajamas

2011-09-25T22:58:00.000-07:00

In many ways, my weekend started Wednesday

as the fog rolled in

Head cold, hit hard
anchored in couch's quilts, hands clutched endless tissues
wishing Olive loved TV
drowning in neti pot's salty torture
wishing Olive loved TV
just this once and just enough to watch it
all. day. long.
and just enough to watch it
longer than eight minutes.
Thursday was more of the same,
but better.
The Mr. left work early
to do school pick up and soccer practice and play time and supper and bath and bedtime and story time.
It was like an evening vacation,
except I was all feverish and all-over yucky.
Friday: the younger two ladies and I wore pajamas
all. day. long.
the sweetness of my middle lady
cooking cereal, arranging grapes and carrots and ice water,
playing puzzles and house and librarian with her little sister.
The best part of being sick:
coming off ten days of tough we've-got-a-four-year-old daily trials and Luke working nearly 87 hours
to realize when I need her most, my Lucy May comes sweetly.
I used all my energy
picking
up the first grader, pajama-clad
up the first tomatoes from a garden spited by summer's spring-like weather
up the basil, uh-oh no fresh mozzarella just generic pre-shredded but whatever yet oh the balsamic and

salt and pepper and
...the snack I waited all summer for arrived on fall's doorstep and had me feeling all the better.
Saturday started
way. too. early.
our babe missed the text about sleeping in
our big girl rocked the field, the goal - the soccer game

our middle girl had so much fun on the walk through the field to the farmer's market

drew quite a crowd at the farmer's market: first bee sting, inner thigh: poor cutie.
Saturday night

equinox music fest, good friends, kids dancing: enough said.

Sunday morning was like all Sundays should be:
Luke up with the girls, the cereal, the dog's unfortunate accident on the newly cleaned carpet, and me sleeping in.
Once up,
all three girls loving a 1980s Carebear movie (yup, Olive was hooked)
Luke says, Hon, we're out of eggs, sausage...
so I brushed my teeth, grabbed my signature red ski hat and sunglasses and favorite blue hoodie and oh, yeah I was still in my owl flannel pajamas and of course, with tourist season dwindling down the only people in the grocery store were people I knew, people wondering best how to compliment my flannel pajamas...
Luke and I
in the kitchen, door closed
hot coffee, hash browns, sausage, scrambled eggs
17 whole minutes of uninterrupted breakfast.
So worth shopping in pajamas.
Sunday's second half was all business,
having signed on to be the costume designer with a really great mama-pal for the Fall family play at the theatre
and, BETTY GOT A PART AS A BUMBLEBEE so no need to remember this heartbreak
I went to the meeting and wondered how I'll ever sew/design costumes for that many actors.
Oh, yeah
I also got accepted into the artisans market with that same, great mama-pal to sell kids clothes (she's this monkey mama)
so the Mr. hung with the ladies while I turned out a box of goods: skirts and bibs and shirts.
I'd imagine in about a month I'll be freakin' out under the constant hum of a machine, tired from weeks of thread wear.
:::
linking with amanda today

Today's Mama:::Bounce

2011-09-17T03:09:00.000-07:00

So much of parenthood depends upon changing perspectives, positions.
Somewhere halfway through 2004 I clutched my ripe belly in the front seat of our white Jetta in standstill Seattle traffic and gasped. Can you believe those parents? Two portable DVD players on with constant cartoon stream? Imagine if they just talked to their kids instead.
Yup. I passed that judgement. Luke always reminds me as we're on some eighteen-hour straight drive to Montana, or on an hour's ferry ride to the mainland, or sitting in the drive way so I can take an important phone call from the porch.
As parents, we do what we do because it works most of the time. And what works for someone else may or may not work for us.
My hips have carried three babes and stand firm enough to know as soon as I say I'll never that I'm standing in the thick of it, knee deep.
One year ago I stood above 5,000 ft in the shadows of Montana's Beartooth Mountains and said I'd never own a trampoline.
:::
In this week's Today's Mama piece entitled Bounce I wrote about afternoons never slipping by without my thankfulness for the giggles that accompany a bounce.

Bounce

I love yard sales, baking pies with grandma’s apron all a-hug on hips, long flannel nightgowns and a warm mug of hot chocolate at midnight, tiny marshmallows afloat. I love station wagons from the 1950s, historic diners with a malt done right and the sound of music from my Victor Phonograph. And I totally agree each week when I hear it: I’m going to make a fabulous elderly lady.. [Click HERE to read more}.

This Moment {slugs}

2011-09-15T22:40:00.000-07:00

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. No words. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

:::

{Camera Words}
I've been taking so many pictures when I'm in a moment. I'm learning more and more about my camera and it's blowing me away. I'm testing settings and trying to see the best way to swallow and savor a scene. I wish I could start a little camera group on this tiny island, sort of like book club, where we share treats and tips and mini assignments. But I'd probably never make it to a meeting or I'd drop the ball on the assignment part; it's nice to wish. Meanwhile, I'll stay in love with this book. This week, this moment has been all about fall-like fog's return to our early morning and the slug visits that accompany tour porch. The girls giggle unglued with this book, so we stop to say hello every chance we get. On this particular moment, Olive was smitten.
When I uploaded the pictures, I had 39 all different, settings shifting in practice.
I couldn't get over how different the message of the picture was when I changed perspectives.
This Moment's shot is my favorite of the set.
Here's picture #3 from the set and a different photo entirely:

Have a wonderful weekend, all the while changing perspectives whenever it feels right.
The power is about to shut off with an islands-wide outage......

In It

2011-09-14T00:45:00.000-07:00

At 8 o'clock I couldn't believe tonight the sky was charcoal.
The pastels of summer sunsets are fading, painting earlier and hanging lower above the horizon as time moves on.

September feels so busy.
We find ourselves staring at a Lion's Mane jellyfish in 52 degree water and it is like vacation for the moments it takes the jellyfish to swim out with the tide, all that stillness and silence as we wade on the shore. Indian Summer's sea makes my legs cramp and numb for salty hours later, yet all the while refreshing during minivan's school pickup, play date drop offs, soccer practice ride share, grocery gathering, errand's checkoff.

September feels so busy.

I'm trying to finish the sweater I've been knitting. It was supposed to be Betty's first day of school sweater. Now it's renamed simply the first grade sweater.
Fingers swiftly knitting, fingers wishfully crossing it's finished before second grade.

:::
My parents are almost back home to the other side of our country. It's pretty safe to say they'll remember most taking in the scenes of our islands, the giggles of sisters at play and the charming way their granddaughters help each other grow, learn, explore. And when they remember the tantrums, squabbles and tears of sisterhood I hope they book an airline ticket back because this mama sure loves having grandparents around to sprinkle joy and patience on the days we need it most.

On the southwest corner of a neighboring island there's a narrow road that turns to gravel and stretches steeply down rocky cliffs.
A level trail is carved, dirt-packed, straight through voluptuous ferns and rangy old-growths until it opens and reveals the perfect half-smile sandy beach.

Oh, protected coves, soft sand, steep northwest rocky shores: I love you.

This was the first time we found ourselves here.

We'll be back.
This inlet looks like a Secret Spots of the Pacific Northwest chart topper, but I hope word sticks put and keeps this beach bare.

:::

There are times when I look out of eye's corner and am thrilled to have a camera around my neck.

Lucy's first day of preschool was one of those moments. Lucy knew Olive would miss her on this day so she gave well-loved Slinky-Kitty to her littlest sister moments before this hug.

And after that one incredible hug I was close enough to hear,

Ollllllive, who's going to pull your ear wooobe while I'm at school? Ollllllive, I'm gonna miss you!

:::

During the fanciest of island-style dinners, my mom's birthday dinner, I saw Betty lovin' on her very first little sister, carefully feeding the very best tomato soup so it wouldn't make a mess.

Yup. There are times when I look out of eye's corner and am thrilled to have a camera around my neck.

We're chasing sunsets until clocks set back, choosing goose-bumpy skin in flip flops to stand beneath a horizon tipped in sherbert's colors.
For endless weeks I've had flip flop feet and in a few more weeks my youngest little lady will be two.

I find myself more often in moments wanting to freeze that place and
stay a while longer
watch stones chosen
listen for the
plunk
giggle
[repeat]

I want to stay lost in that game
where we pause as the sun spoons the horizon
for a seaplane,
so close

Still, so many driftlogs to climb

before tide's high mark

is the cozy blanket of fall

:::
This weekend
Betty's first soccer game
walk's light - just perfect
she,
so big almost seven
held two baby dolls,
swaddled, well-loved.
First half,
full of:
nerves, sideline tears
growing pains
alongside:
love words, courage hugs.
Second half,
full of:
me clapping oh my goodness at the sudden turn around where she's all smiles, braid to braid, and fancy moves and stopped like nine goals but who's counting and she's telling her team good job and I'm sitting on the sidelines thinking about her great teammates and great coaches and I'm thinking this whole mama-of-three minivan driving hobby is really, really great.

p.s.
Luke helped out our party planning pal at the island's finest Great Gatsby party.
He spiffs up well.

Hello, September

2011-09-11T10:39:00.000-07:00

I think I drink too much coffee because the low around 4:30 felt tells me I need to nap, drink more coffee or shuffle out to the garden beds and see what's coloring the dinner plate this evening. Harvests pep me like caffeine and fill my skirt, held in basket's curve at bottom.

We're getting creative with all the zucchini stretching out, ripe, in late afternoon's harvest.
Olive is thrilled, busy and into Mrs. Potato Head's part with the overripe zucchini.

Summer's invitation arrived late to our island, so we find ourselves pausing in the humid air to admire tiny insects, tiny guests.

September's sunsets are killing me, all sherbert cobbler hues.

We feel like we're clutching onto our summer wish list and crossing things off
After bath and in pajamas we jumped on the trampoline until the sky turned dark velvet and the coral hues hung in our mids, drifted into our dreams.

Lucy had her first sleep over. At drop off, she took about three steps and hopped onto her pal's sofa and began showing dresses on dog eared magazine pages while her buddy chimed in with ideas in shoes, jewelry.
Today they're four. Tomorrow, teenagers.
Almost and most certainly too soon.
We've been going to places around the island we've never previously been. Funny to think how how it takes to travel each curve of the island's hip, each inlet where island meets sound.

My folks were visiting for August and it was wonderful to have a Grammy and Grandpop share our days, help in our routines and celebrate our summer days.
So many mini adventures, whale watching from seaweed corners and ice cream walks in late, humid afternoons.

Luke and I celebrated our 8th wedding anniversary a bit late, glad to leave our girls with my parents. We were going to go on this amazing vacation through Colorado and New Mexico, spend time with old friends in the circle of a wedding celebration, ride a train...
We're in the midst of a sluggish home remodel, a non-existant savings account, a new school year...
The list goes on. We're broken hearted to back out of the trip, of the laughs waiting with good friends beside the mountains of Taos. I had a fancy dress and vintage cowboy boots picked out, but at least I got to where them on a fancy dinner date with my lovely Mr. and served by my best buddy.

Waterfront dining at its best, all the while playing a game we began on our honeymoon:

Good times.
The evenings of late have been wonderful, drawing us to the beach to enjoy sunsets and giggles and attempts at rock skipping.

S'mores taste better at the beach, sitting atop driftwood and listening to the waves. It's perfect.

But, as you can see in the picture below, it isn't all giggles and gooey chocolate. Maybe five minutes after the above idyllic family beach s'more shot was snapped, Lucy started to freak out that she couldn't eat as many s'mores as she wanted to. Luke calmly explained, it'd be great if you could be happy for what you got.

We have a new secret spot on the island. It's the perfect rock in the perfect cove.
Perfect for fairies to live, explains Betty.
So we drive out to it when we can, building tiny houses of seashells and leaves and rocks.
The picture below, although it's too exposed and shot too high, captures I think how Betty sees this rock in her mind.

I'm holding onto these Indian Summer nights, where the light fades perfect over calm shores.
Flip flop feet happy, bed sheets a bit sandy
cheeks sun-kissed, red with near-autumn's sun.

Today's Mama:::Would-Be Twins, Totally Different

2011-09-10T17:30:00.000-07:00

I broke the first rule of gang membership when I created a hip hop playlist of east coast and west coast rappers. I tucked my two youngest daughters into nap and danced around in my kitchen until I no longer had tears to wipe away.
I shimmied at counter's bounty as I cut fresh-from-our-garden zucchini and thought
gimme some B.I.G., Black Sheep, love me some Snoop, Jurassic 5.
I backed it up around the table as I loaded local berries onto food dehydrator's trays.
So far, the highlight of my week has been standing in street's stillness in the humid evening of a sumer-come-late evening with sweet baby Olive slung on a hip, pointing up to a star scattered sky and listening to her first whisper moon.
The longest part of my week has come each morning and each bedtime's tuck for the last six days where I break my firstborn's heart. She begs and pleads to stay home to help care for her baby sister, her youngest best friend.
I wipe her tears, hold her Icelandic cheekbones and tell her the long first grade days ahead will become days she loves.
She loved it for school's first two days. At permanence's realization she turned away from the unfamiliar room, the unfamiliar classroom community and began pleading for me to homeschool her.
She's been asking for second's with my homeschool stories from my time on a wooden sloop adrift in the Bahamas.
I tell her gently that if we're going to homeschool her, we're going to do it not on one island, but on a sailboat sailing many islands and our home isn't ready to sell and we don't have a live aboard cruising sailboat...yet.
For now:
I'll zip joy into her backpack, blow kisses of love and send notes of courage.
:::
In this week's Today's Mama piece entitled Would-Be Twins, Totally Different I wrote about sending my daughter out in the world and how tough it has been, even though it's only the first grade.

Would-Be Twins, Totally Different

When the school bell rings I want to hold on a bit tighter with my hugs, knowing I can’t hold my daughters in my arms forever. I want to know all about what made them laugh and know how their heart was lead to create each and every day. I want to know their wishes for tomorrow......[click HERE to read more]

This Moment {island's best bench}

2011-09-09T03:24:00.000-07:00

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama

Shaw Island, 2011

2011-09-03T13:02:00.000-07:00

It's amazing to think Luke and I ever backpacked deep into mountains and carried everything on our alright his back when you see our black pickup filled to brim with five people and one giant dog to camp 7.8 miles away on a neighboring island.

Our first camping experience here was with Olive ripe in my belly and I can't help but wish we'll never miss these summer days spent at Shaw Island County Park. I'm still head over heels charmed by the one room store: deli, espresso stand, grocery, post office, ticket terminal, local craft mart.

This summer was the coldest spring-fall summer ever. I never wished one summer night away for an air conditioner and I can count on one hand the times we were sleeping under the stars saying oh, what a lovely evening.

First day was beach-y best, all sand castles and drift wood forts.

We reapplied sunscreen, made patterns with seaweed in low tide's exposed sand and stayed in bathing suits and bikinis all day.

Until The Pacific delivered grey clouds and a promise of cold rain.

Olive practiced cheeeeese with squinty eyes while Luke prepared coconut peanut curry on his childhood camping stove.
Meanwhile, the weather flipped a cold switch.

We wore our foul weather gear - I like to call it my grumpy weather gear. I wore layers and layers of long underwear and slept with my winter cap on. The girls were stacked in fleece and Gortex and whenever I mentioned the not-humid weather Luke would talk about winter camping in a snow cave when it was -40. Clearly, he's a a once-boyscout and the son of a Fish and Game Warden. I first slept in a tent when I was eighteen, and will sometimes admit that car camping with a solar sun shower and a cot and a tiny espresso maker is roughing it.

The rain fell in drops like basil leaves.
In the Pacific Northwest, the rain can drive us inside and keep us hostage.
It's hard to make do, and even more important to have gear.
Alas, we stayed with our non-leaky new tent, our warm base layers and dry Bogs.
Alas, we stayed with our children who never took note of the weather. I'm pretty sure the older girls believed they were on some wooded, damp fairy island and spent their time buoyantly building fairy houses and fairy playgrounds with bark and seashells and wet ferns.

I was freezing, or more longing for a hot shower so on a drive Luke presented me with the woodsy-wife award of a hot store-bought mocha.

We took a drive to the island's two-room school and played on the playground. It's so funny to think how years ago I almost got a job teaching at this school, fresh out of graduate school. Now, we neighbor its island.

We missed the dim window hours of library, historical museum.
Someone in our family who always wins best pout face was sad about not being able to look at books, at island artifacts.

We listened to the rain, peered in windows.

The rain held my girls skippless to the beats of rain.

We climbed tall fairy mountains.

Someone smiled at being last at bottom.

Someone pouted at being not first to top.

Luke brought his large bin of rock climbing gear with hopes of creating a zip line for babes at camp. Seriously, a child-sized rock climbing harness is just about as cute as things come.

Instead, he impressed campers with his rope technique and constructed a rope bridge.

I love the stories kids tell and the way children play when inside the woods. Time passes so easily and it makes me wonder why we have so many toys at home whenever we play outside.

Although this isn't the best picture, I love the gestures, evidence of a day at the beach in the background and faces of wonder in this photograph:

It rained.

And rained.

Some great families fled to ferry, to home.

Three great families stayed for a burrito night originally planned for eleven adults and fourteen babes. It worked out to just under two pounds of beef per adult tortilla. Great laughs in the rain, for sure. We had good times while, although missing the dry families who fled to home.

Departure's morning welcomed us with grey skies, damp air: no rain.

An hour's walk around Indian Cove, ferry views and all.

I love Shaw.

I love my babies in slings even more.
[After seeing these sunglasses in a picture, I don't think I'll wear them anymore.]

This Moment {first child, first grade}

2011-09-02T00:23:00.000-07:00

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama
:::
She was so nervous. Lucy tried her best to break the spell.
Wow, I was so nervous for her and trying to hold it all together. I can count on my fingers the days she's been away from our home and me the entire day.
All the discussions I'd ever had about homeschooling circled inside my head while I hung onto my belief in public schools.
I thought:

wonder where the birds have gone today

first born

first day
first grade

at times I held her hand on the walk,
squeezed it tight
when I felt my heart move between swoon and lonesome pride

other moments
I skipped ahead with her sisters
sung silly songs

other moments
I stood back
so honored to be her mama

First grade makes me happy, Mama, she said as casually as asking for more milk in a polite manner at dinner's table.
I can sleep well,
heart steady.

What more is there to say since I said it all [HERE].

Doe Bay Fest

2011-08-29T17:26:00.000-07:00

summer's best plans: doe bay music fest
fog thick like biscuits and gravy on early morning's inner-island ferry

looking through fog's dirty windshield at san juan islands'
madrona trees, deck-side

i remember posting whereabouts of barefoot bandit on Facebook
i'd overheard at local pet store
several months ago
when chase was hot,
only to be contacted ten minutes later by a bounty hunter. yup.
with a movie deal in the works, i'm hoping to be in that scene
for now, i will snicker at references found

first time walk to doe bay fest
the lush stroll to the brilliant unknown

otter cove stage with damien jurando instantly melted away
recent week's turmoil: nights awake with teething, remodel's recent snafu
neighboring islands lifting their heads
from fog's cover:
perfect

eldest zips baby doll into bag, breathes in horizon's sailboat scene

all watercolor dreams

and babes on the move

under hot, hot summer sun

bands play on,
bryan john appleby
my soundtrack to hide-and-seek
oh, silly places to hide

bands came on and off,
OK Sweetheart
silly faces keep
my eyes off stage

shelby earl by the falafel stand
and my accidental elbow bump,
sorry, i say, oh, wow, it's you, wow, you were amazing
thank you, shelby says, this island is amazing
do you live up here? wish i was an islander, shelby says
wish i was a rock star, i say

bands play on,
diapers changed
sibling squabbles solved
girls play horsey on dad

we catch up with good friends,
laugh at days gone by
no longer are we collectors of ticket stubs, back stage passes
more now we marvel at collecions of pacifiers, board books

chill descends as sun falls, babe without a nap crashes
i am happy dancing to wonderful, live music
but i am at my happiest in baby snuggles

letting go and sharing of front row memories as we sink into Olga's grass to watch newest craft:

bubbles

we listen to chords, choruses
we listen to phenomenal songs
we miss the fingers strum
we miss the lips deliver lyrics
all to watch:
blue eyes of the newest blue-eyed babe in our circle of friends we call family

longest lashes of our little ladies, blink to beat

hours in the sun time is enough to learn something new:

hula hoop dreams as
doe bay fest hat is put to preschool's test

finally, a skill mastered while
local favorite The Maldives

bring down the sun

so much around, joys in the simple things
trees make the best percussion
hula hoops pass the best time

Ravenna Woods on stage

and more silly faces

elbows on stage
so close this time
with my middle girl
such a rock star

hands up

for this moment

my favorite moment of the entire weekend:

lucy begging to shake a maraca on stage

serious boogie time on a packed stage,

all giggles and big girl moves

veiw from lucy's favorite instrument
hey, mama, can i have a turn on that stool next?
you see, my four year old thought the doe bay music festival
was all about people who love music
taking turns and playing instruments:
we can learn a lot from four year olds.

time spent shaking a moracca on stage with fifteen or more people, heeded a call to rock
while my girl shaked it
and if i hadn't been so concerned with keeping her from falling off stage
i'd have one of her holding steady as stage bounced
like the waves that crashed behind us.

snuggled to Head and the Heart
stage right, here

welcomed under a meteor shower
giggles at the harmony of it all

what a way to end the weekend:

after doe bay's incredible music by the water,
talked about miles and states we'd traveled in our
teens, twenties
to see concerts. now, it seems only natural we'd want to drive both ferry and narrow island road
for years to come
in something this classic, this cool
it seems only natural

in something this classic, this cool

ferry lines would be so worthwhile.
it's been days and weeks since
the unforgettable weekend,
the best of all family-friendly music festivals
still ringing in my ears
doe bay, doe bay!
doe bay, doe bay!
still in whispered, giggly breaths
from our youngest babe,

doe bay, doe bay!

Today's Mama:::Weekending, Big {girl} Bed

2011-08-22T00:01:00.000-07:00

Weeks in summer have passed like the soft spoken blink of a weekend.
So many extraordinary stories to tell, so many all-embracing photographs to bestow,
Like a marquee for coming attractions:
Shaw Island Camping Trip, 11 Adults and 14 Children

Doe Bay Music Fest, Two Days with Incredible Friends and Incredible Music

The Best Time at San Juan County Fair, 4 Days and 13 Ribbons and Great Old Friends

:::
This weekend started on Wednesday's noon bell,
tickets to our County Fair
skips and giggles
corn dogs and elephant ears
neon lights and everyone we know
silly goats, baby pigs, show bunnies, and prize cattle
home with fairly dusty fair flip flop feet
kettle corn in pockets
eleven ribbons in our hearts
all crafty pride
with three more days of Fair to enjoy.
Trashion Fashion Show
so much freakin' fun
Betty the stormy seas mermaid
148 coffee filters, 3 trash bags
cardboard and sea shells beside her mermaid pal
Me in the evening gown from men's dress shirts
stood in first place beside
my best-y, all crocheted trash bags and roller derby glam.
I ate so much blueberry pie, apple pie
laughed when Lucy said the Tilt-a-Whirl looked like a muffin,
stood in awe while Betty drove her own bumper car,
laughed so hard when Olive refused to get off the train ride
and avoided the carnie by ride's exit
to hug the caboose while screaming love over and over.
Our yard full with tents and good, old friends like family
three more blonde children added to weekend's mix,
all trampoline jumps, beach-y travels
beside sneaky blackberry handfulls.
Fair's final day began with an oceanside 8.8K,
all sunshine, old school hip hop
sharing pavement's time with the best sort of girl.
All helps to smooth sad news received by telephone
when the moon hung like a Tootsie pop,
fresh from our telescope's eye,
and glittered like the heart that broke a little with the news.
~ joining Amanda today for Weekending ~
:::
I'm still hanging on to my idea of coming attractions, trying to fill time in summer's last week with posts and visits to our favorite beaches, to my favorite blogs.
Oh, I have so many stories to share.
For now, the best of last week:

Last week's Marquee:
Big Sister Reads to Littlest Sister at Bedside

In this week's Today's Mama piece entitled Big {girl} Bed I wrote about realizing my youngest little lady isn't a baby any more.

Big {girl} Bed

My husband and I believe it’s best not to compare our children to one another. When Olive held her leg high like a track star hurtle jumper and tried to escape her crib, I didn’t have to say her two older sisters were already in big girl beds at eighteen months.....[click HERE to read more]

This Moment {Doe Bay Fest}

2011-08-18T23:21:00.000-07:00

Head and the Heart performing during a meteor shower at Doe Bay Fest last weekend

{This Moment}

A Friday ritual. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

~Soule Mama