Woh. Where'd October go?

This is what it looks like when you neglect blogging for a month.

Bare with me, because I need to chronicle this, since not only is this blog a scrapbook of my family during this precious and fleeting season in our lives, but it's also solid evidence that I managed to do some fun things with my children when they were little.

I was so organized for homeschool in October, it's crazy, and highly improbable of replicating again in November (a week in and not much is planned).  I had prepared not only math and language arts content activities but crafts, snacks, and even library books around themes every week of the month.  It was a ton of work, but a ton of fun, too.

It went like this:

Week 1:  Apples and Leaves
Week 2:  Pumpkins and Scarecrows
Week 3:  Bats, Owls and Spiders
Week 4:  Skeletons
Week 5:  Witches, Ghosts, and Monsters

I already described Apple Pie Day during week one, then for some reason dropped of planet Mud and Bubbles.  Well, week two's baking was not nearly as smooth, and though those little pumpkin shaped pumpkin tarts were yummy, it was high stress for Mom and nearly caused me to help myself to a glass of merlot before lunch as the tarts baked in the oven and the boys (mandatorily) played outside.  I impressed myself with creating a fun sight word game called "Rotten Pumpkins"  (thank you Pinterest for sponsoring this entire month), and playing math games with spider rings.  Snacks were especially fun, making fangs for our Bats, Owls and Spiders week, and Chocolate Bones for Skeletons week.  And to make it extra whimsical, we met a new landmark with Andres when we started reading Harry Potter together.  I have him read to me from his little phonics books for 15 minutes, then I read to him for 45.   We snuggle up on the sofa as Raph naps upstairs, and with my hot lemon tea and his blueberry tea (just my lemon water plus frozen blueberries and honey) we get all cozy, sipping away merrily, and relish our time with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Pumpkin Tart Day.   Although I was stressed and failing all over the place, he did a great job.

Here Raph is working the KitchenAid, and he did a really great job getting it all in there.

I'm so proud that my guys are good helpers in the kitchen.  

Final products were pretty cute and totally yummy.  We had so many that we took then to church with us that night and shared then with kids in the nursery.

Fangs Snack Day:  I thought it was appropriate for bats, spiders, and owls week, although works for vampires as well.

I made a little station and they could assemble their own...

Fangs!

Look at Andres' face:  he loved this activity!

Even Raphael had a good time spreading the almond butter on his apple slices.

Snacking!

Funny "Dracul-Andres!"

This was our snack for Bones week:  pretzel sticks and marshmallows covered in white choco.

Best.  Snack.  Ever.
"I'm eating bones, Mom, REAL bones!"

My mom painted this little ceramic candy dish when I was Andres' age and every Halloween when I was growing up this adorable witch had a cauldron full of Jaw Breakers.  This year, I liked it full of bones.

We made our first ever pinecone bird feeders this year.  One morning Andres  pointed at the tree they hung from and shouted "the pinecones are gone!"  And sure enough just a green string dangled from the branches.  The culprit may have been a squirrel, or some have suggested big crows or ravens.  It remains a mystery.

Raph is starting to take his craft efforts pretty seriously. 

He LOVES bats, mostly because he loves Batman, and Andres and I picked this out for him to color.  He was quite proud, even though most of the marker was on his hand.  

Andres had his eye on that paper skull at Craft Warehouse since they brought out the Halloween stuff.   Finally I got it for our Spooky Art time on Wednesdays.  And those lovely flowers met me one morning when I came downstairs.  Aaron had made coffee and gotten me flowers because I had had a rough day the day before.  I'm a lucky lady to have him.

Such stern concentration!  I love that he's really getting behind this whole crafty, art thing.  

Here's the maestro at work. 

He did a great job on the details, shadowing the eyes and highlighting the cranium, jaws and teeth.   He has vision!

It was so wonderful to have Papa Mano and Grandma Jane pop down for a visit, and we invited Cris out too.  I told them to come hungry.  We had my Black Bean Enchilada Soup which was a hit, a fresh green salad, and Andres and I whipped up some more of those cute little apple pies to have with coffee that afternoon.

Raphie calls pumpkins "balls," and was so excited to have found just the right one.  I love this shot of him, it just captures his wonderful spirit.

I love how the boys both jumped right in to help Papa up the hill with the barrel of pumpkins.

They loved feeling helpful, and it was so endearing to see them want to help.

Eight years and going, the same people gather together for the same thing:  The Annual Pumpkin Carving Fiasco!  
I designed this evite at Purpletrail.com., and  on the back of the card I stated the year's categories for prizes to be selected by the four original hosts  (me, Aaron, Shannon and Micah) and the categories were:

Best Original Jack

Scariest Jack

Funniest Jack

Best Pattern or Dremel Jack

(yes, dremels, as in electrical hand tools, because our folks are hardcore pumpkin carvers artists!)

The boys and I had to spook-up our home for the Pumpkin Carving, and with some construction and tissue paper created an eerie scene in our big window (sort of inspired by the evite).  Toilet paper roll bats hung from the ceiling to add that extra special boo factor.  Love Andres' wicked cat with the scary face!  It really is SCARY!

Here is my first ever Drambuie mix, essential for making Rusty Nails:
2 parts aged (12 years+) Scotch, 1 part Drambuie, mixed on rocks.

But the best part, the VERY best part of a Pumpkin Fiasco, is our peeps.  
These people and their children are totally awesome.  We're abundantly blessed by them.

Blurry because it's like herding cats trying to get a photo of eight kids who are like cousins who love hard, play hard, and are in a constant state of delirium when they get together.

Love how boys are jumping/wrestling on the sofa and girls are sitting placidly at the table.

At the old house we had a long covered back patio, and rain or shine, we carved our jacks there.  But in the new place, without a covered area, and torrential downpour outside, Aaron had the great inspiration to have the carving in the garage.  It was a brilliant idea, and our people were so cool they didn't care at all that the ambiance consisted of a piano and a clothes drier, camping gear and Christmas decorations.  We're amazingly blessed by these gracious, wonderful friends.

And the envelope please....

Prizes this year had to be on the low-cost end.  Never knowing who the lucky winners will be I have to prepare for both kids and adults.  I forgot to get pictures of the prizes, but they were super cute:  An orange mug with Orange Spice Tea and Starbucks Instant Pumpkin Spice Latte mix, pumpkin pie candles,  pumpkin marshmallow s'mores kits, and pumpkin pie play dough that smelled deelish...thank you Pinterest!

And everything during October builds with thrilling anticipation towards the climax of Halloween.  Andres inherited my inability to make choices, and when once-a-year-choices come around (like picking a Halloween costume) the anxiety really goes through the roof.  First he was planning to be Boba Fett, then he switched it to being a Red Ninja, then finally Aaron showed him a clip from Avengers, and he resolved to be his newest favorite superhero, Iron Man.  I had wanted to do Raphael as a Hobbit ever since last year (because wouldn't he be the best hobbit ever?!?!), but the day before Halloween (which is also my birthday) I came down with a killer head cold.  So rather than buy the stuff to turn my wee one into Raphbo of the Shire, I just reused an old Superman costume that Andres wore for Halloween when he was two.  It pleased him right fine, as he's way into Superman at the moment.  We joined our dear friends the Votrobecks for the forth year in a row to trick or treat in the same sweet little Victorian neighborhood downtown Vancouver.  This was Raphael's first trick or treat experience!  But the day consisted of birthday candles, and hang time at home with family.

Feeling really sick on Halloween but so glad that my husband took the day off from both work and school to spend with us, and Dad, Karen, and Grandpa came down from Granger bearing gifts to celebrate my birthday.

I made my own cake this year, under the weather as I was.  It was simple, cute and even a bit creepy.  Grandpa Jearl gobbled up the white choco ghosts, and Andres loved the tombstones (Chessmen cookies colored black--thank you Pinterest).

My husband got me flowers every week all month long.  What a wonderful, dear man.  He inspires me in so many ways.   I'm so grateful for him, beyond all words.

I love this shot because both Sarah V and I are calling to the boys "look at the camera!  smile!" and finally Andres speaks up and says, "I am smiling, Mom!"  Cracks me up, because in this picture he clearly is paying attention and smiling despite the mayhem around him.

Heroes!

Here Andres is showing me the spider hanging from the porch and reminding me that  there's a house with bigger spiders dangling from it down the street.  Memory like a steel trap, that one.

Poor Raph, he was always a little behind the other boys, and by the time he'd get to the door, the rest were saying "thank you and happy Halloween!"  I'd let the person know that one more was coming, and he'd get his pick of the loot.  And he carried that Spiderman toy like a relic all night long!

Aaron held Raphie's hand just like he did with Andres when he was little.    So precious.  I love these days.

Superman has a fro!

By the very last doors of the night, Raph was able to be in the thick of things at the "trick or treat"  knock.
Bless his heart.

For my birthday, Aaron got me a dozen crimson roses.  They were so big and luscious and fragrant.
I'm not worthy of this amazing man.

 And of course, along side homeschool content teaching, planning, crafting, snacking, and driving, and pumpkin carving, decorating, entertaining, aging (35!), headcold recovering, screenplay writing, grad schooling, 9 to 5 working, and trick-or-treating, there was just the normal LIFE stuff.

Here my little man has it all under control as he stirs the sautéed onions on the stove.

Again, thank you Pinterest for this great sensory bin idea.  Raph LOVED this and played there for an hour while I did dishes and prepared a meal.

7:30 am.
Aaron is making his lunch, Raph is spilling water, and Mr. Shakespeare still in his nightshirt is spinning his latest yarn about Captain Underpants.

He's working hard here, the maestro.

A shot of his effort.  I love this because not only did he write this without any help from me or Aaron, and not only is it well illustrated  with a superb action sequence, but it has a stirring plot going on, something that as a writer myself, struggle with.  

"KATPINUNDER PANS."
Yes, here the Captain flies in his tighty whities to engage in battle against the villainous Evil Tree Man.  

Clearly he has an eye for detail.  I've always know this about my son, Andres, but it's really starting to show through his art.  Look at the clock.  We're going to cover telling time this month, so he has no idea how many minutes are on it, he has no clue what the hands are or do or represent, but he nailed it, long hand and long hand, right down to the bells.

And we watched us some Dinosaur Train, too.  Because when you're snuggled under a downy blanket with your brother on a cool fall morning and watching T-Rex living in harmony with a Pterodactyl family,
life is pretty freakin' awesome.

And I marvel at my boys, their spirited personalities bursting with potential, the way they show such grace when I fail them, their unique gifts and talents, and their capacity to learn so much so quickly.  I'm proud of them for who they are, and so blessed and challenged to be the mom they need.

Preserving Faith

My great grandma, known to the masses as simply Granny, was an Okie who moved up from the Dust Bowl in '32 to work in the fields in the Yakima Valley.  She miscarried four babies from malnutrition while digging for potatoes, but three, including my grandfather, survived.  I remember her large hands as white as chalk forming dough for blackberry pie, and the way her blue eyes looked at me when she was up to no good in a game of Double Solitaire.  She was from an era where children ate lard sandwiches if they were lucky, and nothing was wasted.  Nothing.  She made tea towels from flour sacks (in her day made of cotton) and up-cycled (before up-cycling was trendy) old issues of Reader's Digest into matching Mr. and Mrs. Santa Clause for Christmas gifts.  I watched her make noodles for chicken dumplings, and butcher a chicken for the same pot.  She tossed the head, the feet, and the innards to the cats at the barn, and used everything else, even the feathers (once cleaned) went into pillows.

So it was no wonder that her canning skills were top notch.  She would snap beans all summer long, canning batch after batch of beans to stock the shelves in her cellar.  I would go in to view the beautiful array of colors through glass quart jars, the red orbs of bing cherries or the perfect pink shade of strawberry rhubarb jam, the sunset colors of peaches and apricots, russet colored tomatoes, deep dark grape juice (the best I've ever tasted, ever), jellies of every kind imaginable, and pickles in bright green (she called "bread and butter pickles" but we know them as sweet), and other countless items that she had so carefully collected, processed, canned, labeled, and stocked.  She was keeping food for days when it would be needed, for those unavoidable thin days.  She had survived the Great Depression.  She knew what it meant to be hungry.  I've read somewhere that the raw, angry feeling of starvation never goes away, like a phantom it lingers in the mouth and mind.  Granny was sharp as whip.  She'd tell you so herself, as she cheated her way through a pleasant game of cards.  She knew that there would be a day when she would feel hungry again, and she was always getting ready for it.

I'm not sure how to be ready for this upcoming upheaval in our lives, how to stockpile our faith shelves for the road we're embarking on.  We've done it before, thrice to date, and each was before we were parents.  The first time we left our small town of Sunnyside to live in Seattle in 1996.  I had just graduated high school and was following a handsome young man that I had a crush on 300 miles away to the Big City.  Then again in 1999, after I married that handsome young man, we moved from Seattle to Ellensburg to complete our undergraduate degrees, mine in English, his in music.  In 2003 we moved from Ellensburg to Vancouver where we established ourselves as working adults, bought our first home, and had our beloved sons.  And now the tug of another educational pursuit turns our heads back to Seattle, uprooting our family to a new place for Raphie's preschool, Andres' elementary experience, our marriage, our home.

Our faith is challenged to move.  We know we can't stay where we are, and we know deep down it's a benefit to our boys to chase our dreams, passions and gifts, in the belief that this is what we were created to do.  Don't we want them to do the same when their times come?  To follow their bliss?  To chase down their dreams?  Right now my faith is strong.  I know this is the direction we've been called to move in.  But when faced with getting in that U-haul truck and walking away from this life and this season in our lives, will it be there?

Presently the verdict is still out as to whether Aaron will complete his masters at PSU then apply for the PhD in Musicology at UW, or just apply to the masters in Musicology as a masters transfer then apply to the PhD while there (which means the past year and half of grad level classes will be tossed out and need to be retaken at UW--grrrrrr).   All of this is of course banking on the pipe dream that he gets accepted at all, and I have the utmost belief (faith?) that someone as talented, skilled, committed and dedicated to his art will be, so I am preparing my heart and mind for the inevitable move.

Despite the initial excitement around moving to Seattle, there's sadness, too.  To leave our home of ten years, our friends who have grown into our family, the customs and traditions--indeed our small world--that we've created here, being removed from it and changing is depressing.  To take the boys away from their friends that they love like brothers and cousins is heartbreaking.  To be apart from our friends whom have become closer than sisters and brothers is painful.

This is big.  We've never lived together in one place longer than we've lived here.  Our boys have deepened the roots we've laid down, and it's hard to accept the idea of transplanting them, or expelling them from such a nurturing, loving nest in our community.  It won't be easy.  But I pray that it will be a blessing to each of us in many ways as we set out on this journey.

Will it be there?  I wonder.  Will my faith be there on those thin days when I feel my shelves are bear?

Great Grandparents: Raleigh and Zelda Heitzman in 1980.  Me with the pumpkin and my newly born brother Wade.  

My Heroes

Congrats!

My dear friend Sarah is one of my favorite writers.  Ever.  Her voice and imagery are vivid and refreshing, and her storytelling has a magical, transportive quality, where you slip into the pages and find yourself immersed in her world.  

These last several years, as she's been pounding away on wrapping her memoir featuring her life in Japan as first an exchange student then an English teacher, I've had the immense privilege of reading her drafts.  And they've moved me to laugh, to blink back tears, to be whisked away on her journeys with her in her storytelling, always grieved the last words have been read, and always wishing for more.

I'm feeling much like a proud little sister after she sent me the link to one of her stories, "Zithering Away," published this September in a Hong Kong-based literary journal, Cha.  It's one of my favorite pieces from her memoir that I've read to date, so perfectly told, so gracefully conjured, and a most lovely work of art.  It's a profound joy to see all her hard work come through to fruition.

Omedatou, Sister.  I'm thrilled for the rest to come!

Baking With My Boys

My dad is a really good cook.  Really good.  He can make a biscuit and gravy breakfast that makes you glad you got out of bed.  On other days, his own crepe recipe with strawberry filling, topped with fresh whipped cream, is like having a decadent dessert first thing in the morning.   He invented a shrimp taco recipe that should be a menu feature in some high-end Mexican restaurant.   He taught me how to scramble eggs and make pancakes when I was seven.  And I believe that because he was so great in the kitchen that it's no wonder both my brothers grew into men who not only know their way around the kitchen and can follow recipes, but can create their own gourmet food showcasing their individual tastes.  Wade could have his own cooking show!  He has these enormous hands that kneed bread perfectly and easily, his bread always the fluffiest and most delicious thing on the table at Thanksgiving.

I started cooking with Andres when he was two and a half.  Aaron was taking a class on Saturday mornings, and not knowing what to do with a two year old by myself then (much like now), I fell back onto what I know best:  food.  Andres, in classic Andres form, learned fast and was soon quickly instructing me around in the kitchen.  "Needs more vanilla, Mom."  Whenever he saw me in the kitchen at the stove, I'd hear his tiny body pushing a chair over the linoleum from the table to stand beside me at the counter.  "What are we making?" he'd ask.  He did have a little burn early on, nothing serious, but it was small enough to make me grateful that he learned to respect the dangerous stovetop.  Now I'm starting to allow him to work with "real" knives, as opposed to butter knives, and so far he's demonstrated an amazing caution and skill with them.  He's very good at cracking eggs, and I've dubbed him my Official Egg Cracker, assigning him the task as much as possible.  And I adore the way when a thing is done he'll look at me with his sparkling brown eyes and say, "I think we should have a taste test now, Mom."  He's even learned basic fractions in the kitchen, recognizing whole, half, and quarter measurements.  And it's adorable that he's learning to measure seasoning like me, pouring first into the palm of his hand to then sprinkle over something or toss into a recipe.  The kitchen's showing me it's such a rich place to teach so many things!  Cooking with him remains a great joy of mine.

Raphie is getting introduced to cooking now as well.  He's still in the wee butter knife stage, but he's slow to learn HOT.  He'll touch the pan on the stovetop first, burn himself, then look at me in pain and ask "hot?"  So I allow these closely monitored little burns to hopefully sear (no pun intended) it into his memory that "hot" actually hurts.  The fact that he has an unnaturally high pain tolerance doesn't help in this case.  But he can pour a cup of milk, and he can spoon the flour mixture into the KitchenAid to be creamed with the butter and sugar.  He's getting there, and I know he'll be great.

One thing I want my boys to have is a fond memory of cooking with me, hip to hip at the counter, tasting, chatting, musing over a recipe or how something is coming along, overall spending time working together and connecting, because it's a treasure for me to have this time with them.  And I know they too will grow into men who are confident and content in the kitchen.  I wonder if one day they won't be repeating, "Go slow and low, then accidents aren't likely to happen," or other little mantras I chant to them as we cook together in the kitchen to their own children one day.

This year I've decided to make Wednesdays "Baking Day," although it may not always be baking.  But so far we've started our morning after breakfast with a book, then a craft, then we get cooking, all relating to the week's theme.  This week's theme was leaves and apples, and we had a lot of fun going on leaf hunts and making wonderful art, and we learned why leaves change color and fall this time of year, and Andres and I have continued to do the regular big kid stuff of reading, writing, and math curricula (still snubbing history and science) when Raph's napping.  We've also learned about Johnny Appleseed and it turns out he's quiet an interesting fellow.  I didn't get to all the apple crafts I had in mind, but I did happen to prepare and actually pull off a wonderful mini apple pie experience with both boys.

We started off "taste testing" Red Delicious, Gala, Granny Smith and Golden Delicious, and discussed the different flavors and textures each one had.  Andres was super careful with his "real" knife as he diced the apples after I had pared them.  Raphie used a tiny dull kid's knife from Ikea to pretend to cut some of the apple skins I gave him, but ended up mostly eating them.  Then we all participated in assembling the crusts, Andres cutting out the circular bottoms and fall-themed shapes for the tops, Raphie tried to cut some shapes, but ended up sampling various bits of raw crust dough instead.  Raph shined, though, when it was time to measure the spices and flour, into which Andres poured the diced apples, then Andres mixed and carefully spooned the fruit into the shells.  I helped him with the tops, then  we put them into the oven and Raph helped me clean up.  And seriously, is there anything sweeter than the smell of cinnamon and apples baking on a warm and bright October day with these two amazing little men at my side?