MommyCoddle

The long way home

There's a road the girls and I travel pretty often around here. We call it "taking the long way home".

In the humid, unbearable days of summer, I've been known to pack the girls in the car for a chance to sit in the cool of the air conditioning for a few minutes. Cooling our bodies, renewing my sanity, we'd take the long way home. 

In the fall, we'd take the long way home--an excuse to escape through the woods and note the changes in the colors of the trees. After a storm, we'd take the long way home--to see how high the stream got. 

The road is mostly unpaved, winds along the creek and is tented in trees. It passes by the farm where Emma rides each week. And takes a sharp turn at the edge of a hill that I've heard my grandfather refer to as the best view in the county. 

After so many trips down this road, the girls and I have each sort of chosen a house along the way that's our favorite. Elizabeth loves one that "needs some work." Because she likes to work. Emma's picked one with plenty of room for horses. And secretly, I have this little favorite one, too. 

A white house with green shutters that sits way back off the road. You can't see much of it from the road, but I've always felt like it looks like something set in a dfferent time, a different place. It's been my favorite all along. 

At the beginning of this summer that house became empty. The husband and wife that lived there for years, passed away. The rest of the family was ready to let it go. And through connections and family and God's good grace, that little house, that favorite of mine, found it's way into our little family. 

The process has been a long one. Since the beginning of summer we've been talking and waiting, planning, then waiting. There were long conversations leaning against fence posts. And in parking lots of the convenience store at the corner. Things to arrange. Ideas to throw around. Hurdles to overcome. And lots and lots of waiting.

And then that same week that we were dealing with the stress and sorrow of the rabies incident, it all fell through. We had to walk away. And honestly, I was pretty devastated. It had been such a long road. I thought we were so close. And then everything fell apart. But I had to trust that there must be something else. And that this was the right thing to do. 

But something about the walking away turned everything around. And within weeks there were a few more conversations and a handshake and here we are...we're leaving Thomas Run and moving a stone's throw away, to that house I've always loved.

The local history books tell us it's name is Woodlawn. It smells like my grandmother's house and reminds me of the home I grew up in. In its day it was immaculate. Turns out my grandfather played tennis on the courts there (now buried under grass) with Monroe, whose silver tennis trophies covered almost every bookcase in the house. And family friends used to go there to play bridge. And Emma went there with our neighbor once to collect a load of hay. Today, Woodlawn needs some love and attention. But her bones are beautiful.

I've been waiting a long time to share this news. I suppose after such a long, emotional journey to get to this place it's still hard to let myself believe this is really happening. But with paint colors picked and a gutted kitchen and boxes being packed, it seems as though it's really happening. And my heart, that I've been holding close despite it's thumping in my chest with excitement, can finally be let go.

We've found the long way home, indeed. 

Scottish Saturday

A post from Mary...

It is a rare thing for our family to take a day and just do something. Together. No laboring, no laundry, no cleaning. A trip out of town. A favorite parade that celebrates our family's heritage, and is loaded with pipes, kilts and dogs. Lunch and knock-out basketball with cousins. On the way home, a pit stop at Daddy's office and an evening stroll along the creek through the urban park to a favorite burger joint for dinner. As the craziness of the season begins to creep in, I love having days like this together. It is a gift, all its own.

Scottish Walk from Mary McDougal on Vimeo.

 

Posted with Blogsy

A sneak peek // Maggie's nursery

My dear friend + cousin Maggie (whose beautiful farm wedding you may remember from the summer) has had quite the year. Just days ago she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy who I cannot wait to get into my arms to snuggle, and fill my lungs with that luscious newborn scent.

 

A few weeks before he arrived, Maggie sent me a couple pictures of his nursery. Maggie and I share a love for mixing the old with the new. Most importantly, nostalgic touches that remind us of our roots. And her nursery does that, too. Old vintage pictures of family and a silver hair brush that belonged to a great grandmother. A sheepskin draped over a modern rocker. The mallard stool that used to sit beside our grandmother's bed.

I asked Maggie to take a few more pictures and thought I'd share them here with all of you. I love little sneak peeks--and a new baby nursery most of all. Not only that, Maggie is my knitting hero. This baby boy is wrapped in love and handmade knits. 

Thank you, Maggie for somehow managing to navigate the new waters of motherhood, and send me pictures of your beautiful nursery. You are an amazing mama. I know it! 

Chore charts, check lists and when can I watch TV?

It feels almost silly and naive to be writing about this, only three days in. Because every new system is bliss in its early days. The real measure of success comes weeks down the road when you find you're still using it and it still works. But still I know how it goes. As parents we see a problem, something that needs to be changed and we come up with a solution. Sometimes it's a temporary fix that gets us through a rough patch. Sometimes it's a crutch that helps establish new habits or new expectations. 

I should have known something as simple as a checklist would be the thing that seems to work for my kids. They are my offspring afterall and I'm a girl who loves her lists. And just like all the fuss over finding the perfect gift only to discover what they really want to play with is the box--this list has no gimmicks, stickers or stars. It's just a list. Turns out, they don't need all the other stuff. 

But here's why we needed it:

1.) My family has issues with technology. (I should say, everyone but my husband--he's could really care less.) We seem to waffle between extremes. We go through long seasons where the TV's locked away in a cupboard and no one even seems to remember that we have one. Or we swing to the other extreme--and I hit the end of the day feeling disappointed and frankly a little sick at the amount of screen time my kids have cosumed in the past 12 hours. I'm all for the lock it away philosophy. But in reality that's getting harder--there are presidential debates, Sunday morning news, weather to follow, and knitting to accomplish which requires a good teary episode of Parenthood. Then, there's the oldest child and her hard-earned and recently acquired iPod Touch. The list goes on and on. It seeps in and there has to be a way to live with it, but still be in control of it. 

2.) I was often reaching the dinner hour and feeling frazzled that there was still piano to practice, french lessons to do, eggs to collect, laundry to put away. I couldn't figure out where the time had gone and how we'd managed to get this far into the day without accomplishing some very basic tasks that needed to be done.

3.) The plus of a big family is that I've given birth to a small army of helpers. And frankly they are willing to help (and shhhh, I think sometimes they kind of enjoy it.) But I was not enlisting their help at all. And more often than not, when I did need help it was always falling on the shoulders of the oldest, because the girl can get a job done well and willingly. And that's not fair.

4.) I hate nagging.

5.) I hate whining. (my own and theirs.)

So simple as that, every morning I do a quick print out of each child's list. Tack it up on the chalkboard in the kitchen and that's it. Those basic, important tasks are getting done. I don't have to say a word. And everyone knows if there's any hope for channel flipping, afternoon movie watching, or iPod Touch touching, the list must be done. 

And yes, we're in the blissful stages. A real moment of bliss? This afternoon, I was tucked in bed easing a sick kid into a nap and downstairs I could hear someone speaking french and another little someone setting the dinner table. I totally nailed this one. Until the next one comes along.....

 

I declare

I've declared this week to be the week of good things. Things that are uplifting and happy. Behind the scenes, we're hanging in there. The outpouring of encouragement from all of you has been amazing. Even yesterday, when I posted this little shot on Instagram of all of us, while hanging out in the ER waiting for our next dose of the vaccine, it was flooded with good thoughts and wishes, and "I wish I could come out there and buy you all a milkshake!" But the good news in all this is one more round to go! And to quote Elizabeth, "Then I can finally get back to a normal life!"

In the meantime, a few good things around the webby-web-web:

Probably the only time in my life that my name will appear in the same article with Brooke Shields, Gwyneth Paltrow, Tom Cruise and Alanis Morrissette....and proof that among mothers, some things know no bounds of language, race, location or income. We all need to ask for help when we need it.

Something about this post hit me in a good spot this week.

This place is always light, fresh, inspiring (and good for my french).

I'm pretty sure warm bread makes everything better, right? This week, probably this one.

I think my girls have earned some of these to stitch on their sleeves.

And tomorrow, another good thing to share with you that gets me all itchy to have the girls back home...

xo, friends. and thank you.

molly

 

 

Goodbye Olympics, hello end of summer

Olympics are over and I have to admit that we weren't into it as much this year as I thought we would be. We took in our fair share of swimming, gymnastics and soccer. And streamed a lot of equestrian events online, but  overall we weren't glued to the games. No Olympics withdrawl. 

It's hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that it is mid-August. We're in the thick of back-to-school prep. Buying books, cleaning out and rearranging the school room. We'll start the first week of September, though with a cubby full of fresh school supplies the girls are begging to start. That's just the way I like 'em--champing at the bit for the beginning of school.

Fall always has the same fresh feel that January 1 does. Getting organized, falling back into routines, an excuse to buy a new planner. I love it. And of course, through the overwhelming power of Pinterest, I've been pinning tons of organizational ideas I'll never have time to accomplish because I'm so busy pinning them. 

But here are four fave pins of the week that have uber-organized written all over them. 

I think I'm actually going to do this calendar for our school room. I love having a big calendar to display, and this is way more attractive than the oversized desk calendar I've used in the past. I'm all over this idea from maple & magnolia. 

This gets to my inner-geek in only a way Martha Stewart can. The drawers are painted to show what goes where. Not only do I love the organization of this. I love that it helps kids get involved. But, I'm also completely in love with the idea of putting things like plates, cups, bowls in a drawer, where kids can reach them easily. Setting the dinner table is a great kid-chore and this makes it so do-able for them. 

I could get lost on this site for awhile, searching through every kind of printable paper you can imagine. A score sheet for cricket? Yahtzee? Softball? You'll find it here. And of course other kid-friendly things like lined paper, graph paper, manuscript paper, lesson plan sheets...all free, my friends. 

With four girls, tons of hand-me-downs and dresser drawers overflowing with clothes, I LOVE this concept of buying a few pieces that can be mixed and matched into tons of outfits. (more combinations are on her site) It reminds me of when I was younger and one of my mother's friends came over to help me organize my closet and put together outfits. She was great at taking a few pieces and wearing them lots of different ways. And she wrote down outfits on little notecards so I could choose a different one for each day. What I would give to have a personal sylist like that now. My middle school self had no idea how good I had it. Ha! 

Does the beginning of the school year get you excited for getting organized? What projects are you up to? I'd love to hear! 

You can find me on Pinterest @mollybalint

choring

I've been covering for Emma while she's been away at camp this week. I have to admit, I've really enjoyed taking over her usual morning tasks. She often rises before anyone else in the house and heads outside to work her way around to all the animals. All is quiet outside until the animals hear the tell-tale slam of the mudroom door. Then the whinnying and maaing begins. The barn kittens swirl around feet as you scuffle your way to the shed for their food. The pony stomps in her stall and chews impatiently at the fence. 

The 4-H lambs have learned my routine and wait at the gate to be let out for their grain, which they get outside the pen. They need to grow, my other sweet girls, need to watch their waistlines a bit. 

Birdy has become my righthand man and before I can even give her direction she's picking up green feed pans and trying to hook them on fences. Walking to the stone barn for a slice of hay. Trying to pry open the can of chicken feed. Climbing the coop steps to throw out the eggs for me. Oh yes. 

Tonight we'll pick Emma up from camp. She'll hug her baby sister and carry her around on her hip, showing her off to all her friends. She'll most likely be flippant about missing us. But tell me how much she missed her pony and how are her lambs doing? When we get home tonight, I'm pretty sure I can bank on the fact that she'll make the rounds just before bed. 

Everyone will be happy she's home. 

One simple question: No. 9

We're entering the season where I have to make a conscious effort not to talk about the hot weather, and the fact that we have no air-conditioning in this old farmhouse in every post. But I am going talk about it for just a wee bit. Because it makes me feel better. 

We are in the midst of a heat wave here in the mid-atlantic--one of those times when I'd consider trading all this in for a little condo in the city. 

But still, I have much to be thankful for.

We still have our electricity, when folks all around us are black, many for the rest of the week. That never happens. It's always us.

The house has stayed remarkably cool for a good part of the day. 

We found the window in our room that produces the coolest temperatures at night and pumps in that fresh cold air that hits around 4am. Last night, I pulled up the comforter. Crazy.

My family has been wonderfully patient with my "it's too hot to cook" dinners. There's been a lot of tuna salad. And pasta salad. And taco salad. And cereal.

Yes, I'm not above a good dinner of cereal when the temperatures get really ridiculous. 

But here's my simple question for all of you, because I'm kind of reaching the end of my hot weather menu arsenal:

What's your favorite keeping cool, it's too hot to turn on the oven, meal? I need some inspiration. And if it involves cucumbers (because I have about 40 sitting on my kitchen counter, with about 20 still out in the garden) you get super bonus points. 

:::::::::::::::::::::

Apparently, I've asked these "simple" questions before. 

I randomly found these: (and hello?! I think I need to bring back the cute little question banner!)

No. 3 |  No. 4 |  No. 5 | No. 7 | No 8

Happy Birthday to me

A post from Mary:

It's my birthday today. And like my father, I have never really wanted a big she-bang every year. This year was one of those more significant milestones, and my husband was so kind to ask me if I wanted to do it up in big party fashion. I wasn't interested. I like the created by the kids type celebrations. The breakfasts in bed, where you hardly get a bite before everyone is all over your tray.

But there was one routine event on each birthday, that I grew accustomed to and now sorely miss. It was that call from my grandmother. It's no secret how special she was to me, my sister, and many others. Never forgetting your day, her sing songy rendition of Happy Birthday, a call packed with love and praises for who I was and how special I was to her. It has been something I have greatly missed the past few birthdays.

Last year, for my birthday, my sister gave me a cutting from my grandmother's beautiful Gardenia. The huge potted plant-tree, was put out on the patio all summer and then brought inside for the cold months. It was a regular fixture at her house. Even in the dispersal of her estate, it was claimed by an uncle and lives in his home now. I was thrilled to receive a cutting from it. I have it in my bedroom window. It has grown some, but I was worried it wasn't thriving. A few weeks ago, i was happy to see some new buds on it.

And today, on the morning of my birthday, I parted the curtains to let some of the sun in and saw one single fresh bloom, newly opened.

A birthday message from above. Just for me.

hello, girls

There's an old VHS video clip I have of my grandmother, walking out to her sheep in the pasture, "Hello, girls." she calls to them in that voice I miss hearing. Immediately, they respond--a mix of warbled baa's from lambs who have their lips pressed to the earth ripping out clumps of grass and others strong and clear who already noticed her coming. Deep throaty baa's of mama ewes who know her voice so well.

My first lamb, when I was eight years old, came from my Grandmother's flock of Hampshires, Dorsets and Southdowns. I remember well, picking out Buttons that day. I picked him not because he was going to win blue ribbons in my first county fair, but because he came up to me and started nibbling and tugging at the hem of my sweater. He had been one of her bottle-fed projects. Now he would ride home with me purely for the fact that we'd become immediate friends. Standing in that barn while sheep and lambs swirled around us and a border collie crouched anxiously outside the gate.

For the next ten years I would show lambs in 4-H and state fairs. We'd win some years. Other years we'd learn lessons the hard way--like never tie your lambs to Japanese Ewe bushes while they wait in line to be sheared. All will be lost.

When I would graduate and go off to college, my mother would still keep a few lambs on the farm. She loved them as much as we did. She was the sheep lady whenever she'd speak at churches, garden clubs, and women's groups.

But eventually, the farm would be sold. I'd get married. And have children of my own.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, maybe the back of my heart, I'd dream and hope for the day, when things would fall in to place again. When the time would come again, when my children would get their first lambs.

Once we moved to Thomas Run, I'd try to figure out ways to make it work. Ways to afford the fencing we didn't have anywhere. The buildings we'd need, that didn't seem to exist.

Then a pony would come in to the picture and horse fence would go up. Fence that wouldn't work for lambs. And I thought maybe we'll end up being horse people. Maybe lambs won't be their thing. The pony was definitely meant to be.

My husband, who likes to remind me of how I should just trust him on this, has always said that I need to just sit back and wait. That the right things, at the right time, will fall into our laps. The doors will open when we're ready. When the time is right. We needent force anything.

So I sat back. And waited. Sometimes I let it go. Other times a sight or sound or memory would make me want to work and work to make lambs happen again.

But then, in a matter of weeks, the door would open. Out of nowhere. I'd look at a building on our farm in a completely different way and suddenly see potential. I'd get drawn into a conversation at a 4-H meeting that would get me thinking. I'd make one mention of it out loud, that I almost didn't say, because it just seemed too impossible to admit. 

Then, there'd be an email. 

And here we are a few months later. 

I waited. Not always patiently, I admit. But now it's here. It's happening. And it couldn't have arrived in any better of a package. At any more perfect of a moment. 

I am in love. We all are.

Hello, girls. Hello.

home from the ocean

an end and a beginning

I was planning to sit down at my computer this morning and write a post about all our goings on...

But instead I find myself sitting down at this screen with tear stained cheeks.

Emma lost her cat Henry this morning. We found him on the road in front of our house just a few hours ago. He was the cat that came with us from Wisconsin, to live in the apartment on my grandparent's farm when we moved to Maryland, and finally here to Thomas Run. He was the first of what has grown into many pets and animals and cats for our family. But he was always there. Showing up at every morning round of chores. We are so heart-broken. 

But with every end their is a new beginning.

There is a story that I have been waiting to tell all of you. Anxiously holding the news close to my heart for the last two months as details have been worked out. But I also knew that it wasn't my story to tell first. 

I hope you'll take a moment to read Sarah's words, and learn of the new and the good for our family. And what brings tears of gratitude to my eyes this morning as well. 

Sorrow and wonder, all in the same breath.

(We are heading to the ocean...Dan is caring for the animals, and diving into some variety of house projects while we are away. More from me next week.)

xo, my friends.

Molly

Fireman

{A Post from Mary}:

I live with a four year old fireman. Having raised three children through different stages of obsessions.....horses, kittens, bulldozers....I am not unfamiliar with the pattern. So far, in my experience, the interests shift and change over time. And I usually do my best to be interested in their current love. We check out library books, usually cleaning out an entire shelf on one topic while the librarian raises her eyebrows. Gifts are given at birthdays. Special trips. The usual. But my youngest, Aiden, is stuck. Stuck with a love for firemen.

I enrolled him in a nursery school. Right next to the fire station.

There was the super realistic fireman outfit given by a sister in law---worn every day, no matter how hot it got. Seeing his face reddened and sweat beading up on his brow, but him being still determined to sport his getup like a real fireman would.

Fireman boots.

Fireman movies.

Fireman apps.

Playing at the playgrounds with, you guessed it, the tall fireman poles. We are beyond the typical "Stop, Drop and Roll! " He knows all about guages, detectors, extinguishers and hoses. Rolls and rolls of toilet paper unrolled and carried through the house as his "hose".

Making him an "air tank" out of a 2 liter bottle, some ribbon, foil and leftover nebulizer tubing.

Parking at our local grocery store, always in the space next to the one where the hydrant is. Letting him have "hydrant time" while I sit in the car and peruse the store flier. Multiple trips to the station to see the trucks and talk about fire with the very nice firefighters there. Random stops along the street to get out and see particularly nice hydrants.

Receiving a real fireman mask from a friend. And hoping he will only sleep with it and not put it on in the middle of the night. Knowing which public restrooms have the sprinkler systems or other smoke detectors to see. And faking the need to use the bathroom just to go see them. And talking about it. Talking about anything fire. My mom has one story from when a heat lamp in the barn caused a near fire, but the whole fire fighting crew came out. She has told and retold that story.

Seeing him get up on the stage at our latest 4-H meeting, in front of 50 people and without any hesitation, and do his own impromptu talk on firefighters without a shred of insecurity.

So last night, when I hastily finished the dinner dishes to go stand guard as he climbed up and down a ladder,

in only his briefs,

taking his mask on and off, as practice,

I tried to remember the days before the obsession with firemen. It has almost been a year, I think. And as much as I have learned about firefighting as we both have been through this journey, I am wondering if this is just going to be his thing. He wants to be a firefighter.

And you know what?

I am good with that. He will be a good one.

 

Instagram in print

There are a lot of things on my list of "Things I wish I was more diligent about". One of those is keeping track of our days in a more everyday way. There's the five year journal I've started and stopped. The 365 projects I've never signed on for. The Project Life series I've never been brave enough to try.

Then there's the notion of my grandmother's scrapbooks kept for her family of 15, full of report cards, doctor's bills, greeting cards, family letters--years and years worth of big, overstuffed leather-bound scrapbooks. 

The other thing on my more diligent list is printing pictures. I take a ton of pictures. And now with this shiny little iPhone in my hand, I take even more. But I never, ever print. When Emma was a baby and there was no such thing as digital cameras, I took and printed pictures. Slipped them into albums, captioned each, wrote a few lines, memories. And now the album is falling apart with use and love. 

Then, there's Instagram. While I don't do anything so organized as post every day or try to capture anything in particular, it has naturally evolved into this beautiful collection of special moments in my family's day. A trip out, the way they're sitting together at the kitchen table, a typical day running errands, a special moment at the stream. It's unrehearsed. Unposed. Natural. And, honestly, above all, convenient.

So when I recently discovered that Blurb has a bookmaking process that sucks all the photos in your *Instagram stream, right onto the pages of a book I was intriguied. And late one night when there were a million things to do but this thing, I decided to see what it was like. 

It was simple. I put them in my book in chronological order. Deleted and moved around a few that I didn't want in there, and basically held by breath and hit publish. 

But here's the thing. Just like my personal discovery that my moleskine journal needed to stop being what I thought it should be, and could just be what I needed it to be, I applied that same thinking to this book. I've thought about doing photobooks before but have gotten stuck on the idea of design, captions, and making it perfect. 

But while I wanted to see these photos in print, in something my kids could hold in their hands and flip through, I also wanted my personal imprint to be on the pages. So I decided to print every page with nothing else but a photo. 

Now with the (beautifully published) book in hand, I'm adding my imprint to the book in the form of captions and dates in my own **handwriting. 

And honestly, it's exactly what I wanted. It's turned into the perfect balance of my photographs plus my own hand. Something that I hope my kids will love to flip through and read and enjoy for years to come.

And I hope there will be more.

Once again, I let go of what everyone else was doing, what I thought I should be doing and gave myself the freedom to do what I wanted and needed to do. I needed it to be simple. I wanted it to be personal. And I found a way to capture both. 

I'm so happy with the way it's turning out. 

*I'm mollybalint on Instagram. Come find me!

**The pen I'm using is this one, which also happens to be my favorite pen, which also happens to be the pen I use in my moleskine, which also happens to be perfect for this as well.

You are so beautiful

I've been wanting to order something fromy my lovely friend, Shanna Murray, for ages. But when I got her spring newsletter several weeks ago and saw her new spring decals, I knew some of her work had to come finally come live at my house.

Her Be Kind decal seemed like the perfect thing for this household of girls and it's shifting relationships and playmates, and testing out of friendships and learning and hurt feelings and...I think you all know what I mean, right?

It felt like the perfect, simple reminder and sits quietly on our kitchen chalkboard (next to that oddly empty grocery list. That never happens!) And I have a feeling Be Brave may need to join it there in the near future, too.

There were a few other little sweet goodies in my envelope, which quickly found a place in our home, as well. 

Welcome, of course, for the front door. 

And this one, now on the door frame above a certain ten-year old's bedroom door. 

I good reminder for us all, I believe.

You are so beautiful.