finger thumb

fall walk

Its funny how it goes. Some days I sit at the computer in the evenings thinking "whatever shall I blog about today, nothing happened really." And then other times life is so full and fun and busy that I have a backlog of things to blog about. It goes in waves kind of. So today's post is about a walk we took in the woods last weekend. There were so many other things to write about that I never got around to posting these lovely pics. And in the one week that has gone by the weather, the scenery, the forest - everything has changed so completely that it almost doesn't seem relevant anymore. We went for another walk today, along the same paths, but almost all the leaves had fallen and we were all bundled up with coats and hats - just a completely different world out there. But I still want to post these pictures of that 'perfect fall day' from just a week ago. 

This was the view one week ago from the back door of our house. The colours were at their zenith with most of the leaves still on the trees. And the grass was still perfectly green and it was so nice and warm. Fall is funny that way, you never actually know that its at its height until it is past. I wish we'd gotten in the car and gone for a drive to see more of the fall colours, but foolishly I thought they'd be lingering for longer. 

In my psychic childhood map of the world as I knew it as a six year old, this is the point where the forest begins. My Dad mows down the weeds each fall, just before the pine needles fall, so it has this lovely soft carpet of needles over the easily walkable terrain for the whole winter. I just love that pine tree with its fluffy needled branches. 

And this is the Jack Pine in the paddock by the road's edge. I love this tree too. Its so dramatic. I say 'Jack Pine' in a falsely authoritative way, as I'm not entirely sure that's what its called. I should really make it a challenge this year to learn all the tree's real names. What a great lesson that would be to do with the Little Dude.
Isn't this gorgeous? Again, I don't know what these beautiful red leaves are called. But when we went for our walk today, one week later there were almost all gone. Only a half dozen little red leaves were still there. Fall goes so fast.

And there go my boys, heading down the path. 

I love the rosy orangey-greeny blush leaves of the sugar maples. So pretty. 

And the intruguing little shelf fungus. Makes me want to go home and sculpt a little gnome and pretend he lives underneath it.

Weird scary-beautiful pinkyred berries. I'm pretty sure these are poisonous. 

I had to take a picture of this gnarled old stump, because as we walked past it the Little Dude decidedly announced "That thing is spooky." Its funny how fast they pick up these visual tropes, because in all the picture books, when something is scary (a tree, a house, etc) this is how it is drawn; all pointy and gnarled. I wonder where that comes from? 

The Little Dude is becoming increasingly reluctant about being photographed. He won't allow me any more posing or redo's unless he's in a very good mood. And I'm still getting used to my new camera, so there's a lot of blurriness and cut off heads lately. But what I love about this picture is that form the one-sixteenth of his face that is visible you can still tell he was quite delighted to find this little snail. 

And I'm sure this is not good for the plant, but still, sometimes blight is really, really pretty. 

I love seeing this hemlock as it is halfway through turning from green to orange. (At least I think its a hemlock. Am I right mom, or is it something else?)

Is it obvious that I like plaid shirts on little boys?

As we walk out of the forest and into the valley, the groundcover changes. Mostly reeds and rushes...

...but in between and underneath it all there is still wild mint which you can smell as it gets crushed underfoot at the edge of the path. Its like the ghost of summer mojitos lingers yet.

And here's something you try NOT to crush underfoot. Deer poop. Which lets us know that our friends the deer are back. In fact, we saw them just a couple of days ago, walking bold as brass and big as cows across the back lawn. A doe and two half-year fawns. Its amazing how big they are - so cattle like, not all little and bambi-ish as you'd imagine. And seeing them like that never fails to be exciting.

And still, there are the occasional flowers. Pale and not as flashy as the summer wildflowers, but present nonetheless.

At the end of our walk we cross the creek and head back into the yard. But first we stop to admire the new bridge that Hubs made. That little one on the left is the old bridge; really just a couple of planks set on concrete blocks. Good enough for a sure footed adult, but kind of anxiety inducing if you are a toddler. And treacherous when covered with ice in the winter. So that one on the right (which Hubs and the Baby are sitting on) is our new and improved bridge. Very sturdy and wide enough for a three year old to confidently cross on his own (with me right behind him, don't worry.)

That Baby (Mr. Investigative himself) was trying, much to his brother's delight, to get as close to the water as possible to see the water skeeter bugs skating across the surface. (He'd have eaten one if we let him get close enough to grab it) And when we got home we noticed that it seemed as though every bird in the world had gathered in the trees at the forest's edge, as they prepared to head south. Another sure sign that fall is almost over. Wish I had a better picture of the masses of them, but I had only a couple of shots, and then it was time to get dinner on to feed all those hungry forest walkers. 

It was a gorgeous day, and I'm so glad we went and walked (despite the fact that there were a million things that needed doing inside). So that's my advice for today. Go outside. Breathe in the fall air. Notice the smells. Try and identify a tree. Take a little one with you if you can. It'll do you good. 

reach!

Don't let this moment of uncharacteristic repose fool you. Because he's just waiting to do this!

I'm telling you, this is one active little Baby. He's always been alert and interested in life around him, but really, in the last couple of weeks, BOOM, he's really ramped his whole activity level up a notch. This kid is a mover. A reacher. A chewer of prodigious aspects. I don't know if I just have mommy amnesia, but I don't remember the Little Dude being this, er, rambunctious. He probably was and I'm just so completely in the present that I don't recall it well. Either way, this New Baby is a goer. From the moment he wakes up and scootches laps around his crib until we come and get him, to the moment I wrestle him into his sleepsack at the end of the day, this kid is constantly in motion. He is amazing to watch. And exhausting to hold. We call him the shake weight, because that's what holding him is like. 15ish pounds of twisting, shaking non-stop motion. (He trims my arms and shapes my shoulders at the same time!) Its an excellent work out. 

I can't really leave him on the ground unsupervised anymore. His new hobby lately is chewing on the furniture. And I don't mean that as a fun little turn of phrase. He LITERALLY chews on the furniture. We have a vintage teak coffee table that has some nice decorative bolt-like things on the legs and he loves nothing more than to have a good gnaw at them. Also, our entertainment unit has glass doors on the front. Those get a thorough sliming as he smooshes his drooly little face all over them. And he love, loves a good heating grate. I'm going to have to buy some sort of cover for those, as he likes to get his pudgy little fingers in the grate to try to rip them out of the floor. No doubt so he can chew on them. And the reaching and grabbing for things is off the charts. He has broken two bowls already, because I was holding him on my knee at the dinner table, to put on his bib or eating shirt or whatever, and there was a bowl that I stupidly assumed was not within his range. And before you know it, LUNGE, GRAB, CRASH! And that's the end of that. 

I'm still not switching to plastic.

high chair

Ok, so you all probably know by now that I'm not a huge fan of plastic. Especially when it comes to babies. I know it has its place and also that its hard to avoid, but really, I just don't like it. And evidence is mounting that its not a great idea for the earth and those who live here, both in production and in daily use. So I try to avoid it. I don't ever take plastic bags from stores. I don't heat plastic with food in it in the microwave. I don't use plastic dishes or cups or cutlery, even for the baby. 

But there are many ways in which I fail at getting plastic out of our lives. We have waaaaaaaay too many plastic toys. And so much of our food regrettably and unavoidably comes in plastic containers. But one of the things that annoys me most is the big, ugly, plastic highchair that my baby sits in everyday. 

It is a hand-me-down hand-me-down, which is to say that it has been through many babies before ours, and lived in at least two other houses before it landed with us. And really, it pretty much came to us by default as somebody gave it to my mom to have on hand for when her grandkids were around. And then her grandkids moved in with her (that'd be us and the boys) and then they moved out and the chair stayed. And I don't want to complain, because that chair has served us well. It works. It holds the baby in place while he eats his food. It wipes clean. It does not fall over. We needed a highchair and the price was right (free). But its not the most attractive thing in the world and is completely lined with vinyl, which is pretty much the #1 worst kind of plastic to have around babies. I just kept hoping that since it was so old and well used that it'd have done its most viscous off-gassing during the first part of its life, and was just down to a trickle of fumes and hormone disrupters by the time it got to our home. 

Because what I really, really want is a wooden high chair. Specifically this wooden high chair. So pretty. So clean and modern. So not plastic. But also, so very expensive. I really, really wanted to justify the cost, and mostly I can. I think the world would be a better place if we all voted with our money on environmental issues and ponied up the cash for a few quality items instead of going for as many cheap and not-so-sustainable things instead. 

Ah, sorry, I realize I'm getting preachy, but I just wanted to explain why it was important to me, so you wouldn't think I was just being a snob. Because the point is that even if I wanted that nice chair because I was a snob, I just really couldn't afford it. There are so many other things we need to save for, and plan for and give to as well. So instead of buying that gorgeous highchair, we decided to take our eco sensibilities one step further.  Remember this little number? I picked it up at the V.V. over a year ago. And it has been waiting around the garage for just this moment. It is solid, cute and best of all, made of wood. The tray was in pretty bad shape and someone had just slapped on a layer of wood grain patterned mac-tac over the scarred, pitted and stained original tray to keep it going. So I asked hubs if he would take a little time and make a new tray for it. And after I asked him a few more times and nudged and reminded and did a little light nagging, he finally did! So not only are we using wood instead of plastic but we are recycling as well. 

And now look who's sittin' pretty in his fancy new-ish highchair.

Hubs made the new tray out of a piece of solid poplar. Its finished very nicely, and as you can see in the photo above, the Baby certainly appreciates it. I did a lot of research on the finish. I would have liked to use this stuff, but couldn't get ahold of any here in Canada. So instead we got some of these Tried and True Wood Finishes from Lee Valley. Its really good stuff. No VOC's, a very clean product. After all the Baby pretty much eats directly off this tray, so I wanted to be careful. No good making it out of wood if you just go ahead and saturate it with toxic chemicals. 

And now, I'm done with my soap box, and we can all just get on with the point of this post; pictures of The Baby bein' cute. Big Brudda likes the new chair too.

"Hey, what's that back there? Oh, Hello Kitty!"

"All right then, if I do my best baby bird impression will someone feed me?"

"That's what I'm talkin' 'bout. With my mouth full."

I've since sewn a little cushion to put behind his back for a little extra support. No doubt you'll see it in the background of another cute-baby-eating-photo someday. 

He's happy and I'm happy.

And you know, we probably could have scraped the money together for the fancy chair. We're on a budget, but we're not broke. But this just seems better somehow. Putting all the thought and effort into it makes us appreciate this chair just a little more.  We are proud to use it and happy to clean it. We value it and are less likely to treat it as disposable. It has a story now, and is a part of our life.

testing, testing

Its so nice when something works out just as you'd planned it. And I'm telling you, it doesn't happen often. But occasionally, and idea that you've been carrying around in your head forever just happens to make its way out of your brain and into your hands and then finally gets made and looks just exactly the way you thought it would. And it is so, so satisfying. 

Case in point, this pillow I made the other day.

I've been mulling this idea over in my head for aaaaaages. I kind of love the tv test pattern. I remember it well from my childhood days. My little brother and I would get up early on Saturday morning to watch cartoons, and we'd creep quietly into the living room, so as not to wake my parents (though now that I'm a parent and I reflect on that for a moment I'll bet we were not quiet AT ALL and totally woke my parents up). We'd turn on the TV, and find that there were no cartoons on yet, just the brightly coloured test pattern humming away as the local tv station got ready to start the day. 

Wow. That's how old I am. I can remember a time when there was not constant, 24 hour programming on every channel (even if it was just reruns and infomercials). Ah, the 80's; a time of innocence and wonder indeed.

Anyhow, fond memories of the test pattern have been bouncing around in my head. And if ever there was a patchwork pattern waiting to happen, the test pattern is it. But its funny how it goes when you are very into a certain technique or style of working. I see patchwork everywhere. When I was more into knitting I thought also that the test pattern would make an awesome scarf. But these days I see it as patchwork. I would LOVE to make a full sized quilt version of this, but I'm not quite such a masochist, so I decided to settle for a throw pillow.

Doesn't it just pop! I LOVE these colours. It was quite fun to do, and frankly the hardest part was finding the appropriately coloured solids fabrics. I had a few in my stash, but it did require some rather extensive searching in all my local fabric shops to find just the right shades. I needed three different kinds of black. The whole thing was a bit of an exercise in seeing, which was good for me too, and reminded me of the time I spent working as a fabric designer, having nit picky (and very enjoyable) conversations about different shades and tones. This blue was too grey, and this one was a tiny bit too green, and that yellow just needed to be smokier. You know? Ah, good times.

I worked from the image I found on wikipedia, but did not try to print it out because there's no way that the print out would have matched the screen. I relied on my own (somewhat faulty) colour memory, a whole pile of swatches and the good old hold-it-up-and-squint method. Such fun. Really, I'm not being sarcastic. And I'll tell you that greyish-bluish square in the bottom left hand corner was the hardest to match by far. I had to settle for close. Because really, nice as this cushion is I'm pretty sure that no one will ever use it to calibrate their television screens. 

I'm going to be selling these during the Christmas season, and I think I'll even make up a few tote bags with this pattern as well. I've got my etsy shop up and running again (as you can see on the right there, I've got links to my shop with the new bibs I've listed for sale) and I think I'll probably make a few of these cushion covers to put in there as well. Not the whole pillow mind you, because that'd cost way to much to ship, but I thought ahead and used an easy to find Ikea pillow blank inside it. That way, if you live in South Africa or the Netherlands or Australia and want to buy one of these puppies, you don't have to pay for a great big pillow-filled box, but just a slim little envelope with a folded flat cushion cover in it. Just trying to think ahead. 

leftovers

On a day as busy as Thanksgiving I often forget to get out my camera. There is so much going on. So many people! Extra long tables taking up extra room, with as many chairs as can be begged borrowed and stolen lined up along the sides. Pots of food cooking on and in every available heat source. Little boys everywhere, running in packs, clamoring for lego, lining up for pie. It was a very, very busy, fun, loud day. And I only managed to get my new camera out once, and only took a couple of dozen pics (not many when you consider its digital) of only one subject. But boy, I'm glad I did, because I love this picture.   My gorgeous niece, and number one fan of the Baby, soaking up as much baby cuddling goodness as she can. Both the boys adore her (and all the rest of their cousins too!) and the Baby was completely at home in her arms. 

And I don't know what the weather was like around your parts, but it was ridiculous here. Positively balmy. People were swimming in the pond. Well, children were swimming in the pond because they have a very high tolerance for cold mud and water, but still, you know what I mean. We were all wearing tank tops and shorts and loving every minute of it. But even with lovely weather, you can still tell its fall, because this is everywhere you look:  I've lived here all my life and I still can't get over trees like this. And I hope I never do. 

Anyhow, some notes on food. The food was crazy good, but I'm not going to go into it in detail, because frankly, I don't have the time. I am, however, going to tell you what to do with your leftovers. I was looking for a side dish to make for our big thanksgiving dinner and found this great recipe for sweet potatoes with pecans and goat cheese from what is quickly becoming my favourite food blog, smitten kitchen. I ended up not using it for our family dinner, because there was literally no room in the stove to make them (brought a tomato salad instead) but I was just so enchanted by the description that I had to make them here at home for us. So I did that today, for lunch. And HOLYCRAP they were good. They were totally like little individual mouthfuls of thanksgiving. Thanksgiving bites as it were. I only sliced and roasted two sweet potatoes, because I didn't know if everyone would like them, and I need to keep the plain sweet potatoes around for the Baby. But the best part was that there was a lot of the salad mix/salsa topping left over, and I added a bunch of left over chopped chicken from a chicken I roasted earlier this week, and you guys, I could have eaten that ALL DAY. So freakin' good. So if you have left over turkey, you should make up some of the celery/parsely/pecan/goat cheese/cranberry salad stuff and add your turkey to it, and then put it on a sandwich, or in a wrap, or even a pita and take it to work for lunch. Heck, I ate it without any bread even and it was awesome. 

And now onto something that is also awesome, but much cuter and less edible. 

My kid on a trampoline. I know, total non-sequiter, but since when did cuteness need to relate to my main topic to be justified.

My favourite thing about the Little Dude on the trampoline is his hair. I love how those curls bounce with him and seem to come to life. He looks like a muppet. I mean that in a good way.

Happy, back-lit muppet-boy and his Grandpapa bouncing to their heart's content. 

It was a good weekend. 

star wars ball

Like the death star, only cuter.

You know I love my vintage star wars sheets, and I use them to make quilts and bibs and whatnot. But I hate to throw any of it away and you end up with the nicest little scraps. And what better to make with scraps than a little patchwork ball.

This little project has been on my back burner for evah! I like to have a little hand sewing something or other around for when I'm watching tv, or waiting in line ups, or out and about. And these balls are pretty fidley little things, but with very short seams, so its perfect for that purpose. 

  I'd kind of forgotten about it in the busy-ness of getting bigger items done. But I was cleaning up the other day and found it back and thought "I really should finish that thing."

It was nice to finally bust it out, get it all put together and stuffed. Very satisfying. I've made a number of different patchwork balls as gifts and things over the years, but this pattern is my favourite. I love the contrasting star pattern that jumps out at you. Its called Aunt Etta's Diamond. You can find the pattern in Jinny Beyer's book Patchwork Puzzle Balls, which I totally reccomend. Its a nice, small way to start with doing hand piecing if you are interested in that sort of thing. Or maybe you just like Storm Troopers and Wookies. Either way, I hope you have a great Thanksgiving weekend with your families and friends. See you next week.

quiet time

Oh the baby days. I'm constatly aware these days of how fleeting this time during which my Baby is still a baby are. It goes so fast, and there is so much to do, that sometimes you forget to savour it. Or you just forget it period. Parenting is such an 'in the moment' experience that once a developmental stage has passed you by, its often hard to remember the nuance of what life was like then. And you know, the whole 'having kids' situation is a lot of work and a titch on the tiring/stressful side, so there are parts of it that can be a bit of a blur.
And for that reason I'm so glad I have this blog. Because at times I feel like I can almost look down the long telescope of my parenting life and see them grown up and walking away from me into their own independent lives. I know I can never slow it down, and I certainly don't want to turn it back, life is a fast moving stream after all, and needs to get where it is going. But the least I can do is try not to forget.

There are things I want to remember forever about these baby days. Like how much I love breast feeding time.
After the Baby wakes up from his nap, we lie together on the Big Bed, curled towards each other like parentheses around a very short sentence. And he feeds, sleepily at first and then with more focus as my milk comes in. But he's a super efficient feeder and in 4 or 5 minutes he's done with the first side.
I know he's done because he unlatches and starts to talk to me. Well, talk is an exaggeration of course, but he's definitely communicating. His favourite sound to make, the first sound he always makes is a breathy little exhale, through is pursed lips. Like a whistle with no sound, as though practicing his embrasure for hypothetical future clarinet lessons. It is the sweetest little noise, and he does it with his face turned up to me, searching out my eyes. I take a minute to smile down at him, and trace his sweet little features with my finger. Eyebrows, nose, chin, lips. He sticks out his toungue and I tap his nose.
And then he trills and coos and smiles and its the loveliest thing in the world. Just him and I, basking in each others warm presence. Each of us being fed by the other. I lean in to kiss his little face and he always responds by trying to eat me up, which always makes me laugh. But then we can't linger too long, because its time for him to use his little potty. On a good day he's quite predictable, and needs to go soon after being fed. 
Not that I'm bragging. Our ECing is a work in progress and he's certainly not 'potty trained' yet. Also, I've learned my lesson about bragging. Any time I proudly tell of any of my kids accomplishments, or positive personality traits ex: good eating, sharing well, being able to play by themselves, using the potty early, etc. they somehow immediately hear me and then make me a liar. I was telling a friend a couple of weeks ago about the Baby's ECing and that we were really getting somewhere because he was doing all his poops in the potty and almost as soon as I got off the phone, the Baby went right back to not pooping in the potty at all. Hmph. It was mostly my fault, since his good ECing skills are also about my good timing, and I really need to put him on the potty as soon as he's finished a feed.  

But sometimes, I am just too lazy/tired/exhausted after his first morning feed and I just want to lie in bed with my baby next to me and rest of a few more minutes. If lying next to the worlds most energetic baby as he greets the day with some ritual flailing can be considered 'rest'. He's very, very active these days. When we are not having a sweet, tender breast feeding moment, we are alternately having a arm waving, fist pumping good time (or at least he is. I'm just trying not to get strangled with my nursing bra).
 Wow, I just re-read all that, and the change in tone (from sweet post-nursing moment to the poop report) makes me laugh. But that's life as a parent. Quick changes from the sublime to the absurd are pretty much where you're at. And now another gear shift, with a quick note on swaddling. Many babies are not swaddled much past four or five months, but we've swaddled for much longer with both our kids for two reasons. a) it really, really calms them down. I pretty much swaddle this kid, kiss him and pop him in bed and he falls asleep. Like I said he is by nature a flailer, and the swaddling *we use the miracle blanket* gives him a clear signal that now is the time to relax and go to sleep, which he does. b) you may have noticed that he has excema on his face and ears. It doesn't seem to bother him when he's awake, but he rubs at it quite a bit when he is half asleep which causes it to flare and get much worse than it currently is. So the swaddling really keeps him from scratching at it, and keeps the eczema under control. The Little Dude had the same problem, eczema all over his face (worse that the baby does now) and we tried everything, and he finally grew out of it after he was a year old. It was the worst, but we learned our swaddling technique then, and will use it with this baby too. Though, he only gets swaddled during naps. We have these special hand guard sleeve dealies that he wears at night, because he's too strong for a swaddle for more than a couple of hours, so it wouldn't be practical at night. 

So there you go, from the sweet to the mundane to the informative. All in a day's work.

a new language

I may have mentioned how much the Little Dude loves his grandparents, and how much they love him of course as well. He doesn't always get to see them every day, but does spend time with the quite regularly. I love the fact that he has a good relationship with them. They both have so much to teach him; he's already getting a fine appreciation of nature from them both, and from my dad, the crucial ability to differentiate between 'dualies' and 'tandems'. You know, an understanding of the finer things in life. But most of all lately during the time spent with them he's really learning a love of language and expanding his vocabulary and understanding of the way we communicate most effectively as human beings. By which I mean to say that he's been assimilating the finer points of 'Peterisms'. 

"Peterisms' are the basis of the language of my father. A blend of the best and most whimsical of the 1940's and 50's along with a bit of good old earthy farmer-ness thrown in. Now, I don't have a long time to devote to this post tonight, so I can't get into the finer points, but Peterisms are mostly used for descriptive or exclamatory purposes. And I cannot tell you how it kills me to hear them coming out of my child's mouth. These phrases are so much a part of my father that I hardly even notice them when he says them, but hearing them from L.D. is so... funny. It just messes with my sense of context, because it transports me to my childhood...via my child? Its just weird. And hilarious.   *Note: in the following all Peterisms will be indicated with italics.

For example, we found a very large tomato in the garden and the Little Dude exlaimed, "Hokey Doodle Dandy! That's a big one mommy!"

And when I asked him what he was building with his blocks he said. "Its a hospital. A real nice one too. Yesiree Bob, this is a nice hospital."

And after selecting a car to play with after nap, he turned to me proudly and said "Isn't this a lovely van? Its a real humdinger!"

Do you see what I mean. For those of you who know my dad, you can just hear it can't you. In fact, I can feel my sister laughing through the internet as she reads this. Anyhow, it cracks me up. Its like hanging out with the child version of my dad. Or Mickey Rooney circa 1940. Close to the same thing.

baby hat

The Baby got a new lid the other day.

Its a loaner from his big brudda. I know, I know, 'baby in hat being cute' is not exactly a very creative blog post, but as the saying goes "It works on so many levels!" (Bonus to you if you know which long running tv show that quote is from.)

Either way, he was no shortage of fun to watch in this hat, as he could not figure out how it had gotten on his head, nor how to get it off.   He knew something was up there. He could feel it. He could sort of see it, but every time he looked up to try and get a better idea of what the heck was up there, it would slip out of his view. It was pretty hilarious to watch him craning his head back to see what was on it. 

Yep, still there. He turned it this way and that and finally...

...get it off of his head....

...and set about examining it in the way he likes best. Nom. 

And now a short digression about the above photos. I'm going to wax rhapsodical about Someday, here. You know, the Someday in which we will own our own home, be really well rested, have a good stable income and lots of free time. I don't know if that Someday will ever arrive, but if it does, I swear the first thing I will do is DECORATE. You know, as in make conscious decisions based on our personal taste about all the aesthetic choices regarding the environment we live in. (I know that other people do this because I read blog post like this one that make me want to weep at the beauty of their spaces. I want a studio like this SO MUCH. Also look at anything in the mer mag blog, for example this post; pictures of her kids playing, but everything is beautiful. No crappy backgrounds anywhere. It makes me despair a bit, but also gives me hope because she has two boys and seems to manage to have a beautiful house. So I know it can be done.) Because whenever I take photos around the house I am constantly in despair about how bad the backgrounds look. There are several reasons for this.

a) we don't have a lot of income these days. Don't get me wrong, we live in Canada and as such have a great standard of living, lots to eat, plenty to wear, warmth and light and high speed cable hook-up etc. So I'm not complaining. We are blessed and all our most important needs are met. But we don't really have a budget for decor that goes beyond the basics. By which I mean to say we get a lot of our stuff second hand. Which I don't knock; I love second hand stuff. Its good for the environment and you can find awesome stuff sometimes. But sometimes we get stuff that we didn't really choose, if you know what I mean. Like a kind relative offers a bookcase to us, and you know, we need a bookcase, (to store all my sewing supplies and fabric in) so we take it. Even though it is not to our taste at all. Can't look a gift horse in the mouth yada, yada, yada. But someday I hope to have the budget to make, well, choices instead of just taking whatever is offered. Another example is that the photos above make me crazy for the fact that that baby in them is ensconced in his bouncer/excersaucer/ activity center. Aka "The ugliest piece of crap every designed by humankind" or as a friend of mine calls it "The Circle Of Neglect". har har. The Dutch blogger Nina, of Ninainvorm talks very eloquently about the ugliness of baby gyms here, and I basically agree with her. Except that we needed one, because it keeps the baby out of trouble and away from the poking fingers and overzealous love of his brother. And also, it was free. Hubs literally found it by the side of the road. It looks not very old and we cleaned the daylights out of it, and now it sits, proud and nearly aggressive in its ugliness in the kitchen. I hate it but I need it. Is there any such thing as a wooden one? My only consolation is that this one is old enough that its probably done the worst of its plastic-y off-gassing in its original owner's home.

b. We are renters. In fact, we rent from my parents and live in their old house, aka, the house I grew up in. Which is great. Because its a great house. More room than we've ever had. Surrounded by beautiful country side, yet close to a grocery store. And the biggest selling point by far; only minutes away from my parent's current house. And that proximity is worth more  than rubies, my friends. The downside however is, we don't really feel like making the investment both time-wise and financially to change things, since we don't know how long we'll be here. So we live amongst my parent's decorating choices. And I think its fair to say that we have different tastes. They made good quality, well executed decisions that don't exactly ring our bells, as the saying goes. Also the result is a weird design mash-up where we have furniture (ours) that to a certain extent clashes with the wallpaper, window treatments and flooring choices (theirs) in a way that is almost comic at times. Like our black leather sofa with the blue shag carpeting. Though I tell you what, on the upside, shag is the way to go with a baby who is just learning to sit up by himself. Also, it hardly shows any dirt at all, and is very comfy, big selling points when you spend almost all day on the floor. 

c. I'm a little bit lazy/busy and not very organized. That is to say that often there are piles of things to be found in my house. Piles of dirty laundry. Piles of clean laundry. Piles of paper. Piles of magazines. Piles of library books. Piles of fabric waiting to be made into something. Piles of paper to be filed and organized and dealt with. Piles, pile, PILES! I like to tell myself that one day, when the boys are a little bigger I'll have more time and my home will be lovely and clean and organized and any time I whip out my camera to document a special moment, I'll have a nice, tasteful background all ready to go, and won't have to take a moment to move the kids/ myself so that the background to their cuteness is not full of dirty dishtowels and socks waiting to make their way to the laundry room. 

Don't even get me started on the laundry room. 

apple time!

Oh, fall is definitely here (she declares redundantly, as we are already into October). I know because we went apple picking. My mom called in the afternoon and told us she was heading off to the orchard and would we like to join her? Normally I don't do 'spur of the moment' so well with kids, but the orchard is literally less than 10 minutes from our house, and we were in that good post-nap, not yet pre-dinner zone, so we threw a diaper bag in the car, grabbed some sweaters and were off like a dirty shirt. The Little Dude lost absolutely no time in finding and getting down to eating an apple. He did a little bit of picking here and there, but the eating was definitely what he was there for. 

 I love his apple biting technique. Not the side to side teeth marks of adults, but the top to bottom efforts of someone for whom holding an apple is still a two handed affair. (note that he's wearing his Oma sweater again. I'm so pleased that it still fits! I think we'll be able to get another year out of it, so long as we layer it up.)

The trees were absolutely laden with apples. I'm telling you (and showing you, incidently) that it was gorgeous. On the trees they are all matte and dusty, but look what happened when hubs polished one up on his shirt:  Crazy, amazingly shiny. New car and patent leather pumps shiny. I love it. And they did taste as good as they looked. I'm telling you, if you can at all get to an orchard this fall and actually pick yourself some apples it will be totally worth it. Nothing beats the taste of right off the tree. The way they skin snaps as you pierce it with your teeth. And juicy! So good. 

Even the baby took a stab at picking, with GranGran's help or course. Though I think he found the presence of the tree a little overwhelming. All those tickley branches. 

He much preferred sitting on the ground with apples. 

L.D. kept offering him some of his...

...and even one of his own, but he was having none of it. Because what he really wanted...

...was one he'd chosen himself! (I have to say, I think this is my favourite picture ever) I let him chomp on it a bit, but then I confiscated it because it was a windfall apple off the ground and therefore a little bit dirty. Plus also, he may be a very competent eater with a nicely peeled peach, but a full, unpeeled apple is another story. 

He did manage to get a few nice little two-tooth chomps in there nonetheless. 

We got our picking done pretty quickly, as we were only after a bushel or so, and then it was mostly photo-op time.

We were trying to get a nice one of the two boys, and as you may have noticed from the above photos, the Baby is now able to sit up by himself for a few moments, provided he has a good even ground, a nice stable base...

...and nobody actively trying to undermine him. 

Yep, guess who thinks its hilarious to play topple the baby? Though thankfully this does not happen too often. Generally speaking, L.D. is much too busy doing his own thing to bother about nudging the Baby off balance. This is the only time I've seen him do it on purpose, and it wasn't a hard shove, but a very slow lean. No harm done. But that's what I get for trying to make them pose for me. L.D. is not a huge fan of posing. And I have to remember that I really don't want to make the process of picture taking unpleasant for them. I've got a new camera (I hope you will see the photo quality around here improve) and though I love taking pictures of them, I don't want to be that mom, forcing them to smile and trying to get them to re-enact photo worthy moments that I missed. That's not fun whether you are three or twenty-three. 

Even Hubs does not like to pose. I suppose L.D. is a chip off the old block that way. I'm telling you that man ruins more nice photos of our kids with his face pulling than the kids do (I can feel my mother-in-law nodding her head from across the country while she reads this). Though this particular picture is a keeper as far as I'm concerned. That Baby does get a pretty good grip on one's ear when he wants to.

After all the apples were picked and the pictures were taken, we had a little stroll around. 

A storm was brewing in the distance, so we headed back to the car. 

Apart from the eating this wheelbarrow was probably the Little Dude's favourite part. After this we all went home and started to make applesauce. We'd picked Cortland apples, because they are my mom's favourite for making applesauce with. There is nothing that signifies this time of year for me better than the smell of apples cooking on the back of the stove. We made a little batch that very night just for fresh eating. It was warm and delicious when we ate big bowls of it for dessert. But even better than the taste was the feeling I had watching my boys enjoying it, and knowing that for them too, fall will mean apples and orchards on cool grey days and helping to make their own applesauce.