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Category: Mirror Mirror Mondays

A sign hangs in my mother’s house next to the laundry room, taunting me with it’s hand-brushed inscription each time I pass by: “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, I am My Mother After All.” All kidding aside, I find much of my love for house and home stems from my mother and her natural ability to infuse life into her home and family. So, in honor of her, and my dear mother-in-law, who is always seeking inspiration to beautify her home & soul, I give you Mirror Mirror Mondays: slices of style & life inspired by the two women whose homes have most significantly shaped mine!

Jan 16

Fish & Friends Lunch : Little Ways to Say I Love You


In elementary school, I would often discover bananas bearing love notes, inked on peel before I had even crawled out of bed. There were rare nights in sweltering summer, after all the work of putting four girls to bed, that my parents would come in, and tell us to pile in the van: we were going on a pajama run to the ice-cream stand.

As a parent of young children, our days, by necessity, are chock full of routine. Nap-times and diaper changes are eventually traded for ballet lessons and homework time, and dinners need to be made, and does anyone ever conquer the laundry mountains? Tell me there’s hope for the laundry mountains, somebody. Anybody?

Let me let you in on a little secret my parents knew: sometimes, in the midst of all the doing, the simplest act of intentionality can go a long way in reminding  your child that you love them, and you’re all on the same team. And sometimes a banana peel is the perfect place to communicate the mother love that’s too big to fill any canvas.

Last week, we were learning about the letter f in our house, and there was much talk of fish and frogs, which led to pond habitats and my old friends Frog and Toad, and on Friday, we had an out of the ordinary lunch. And let me tell you, talking about it all week, and working on it together filled these little hearts up with wonder. We called it…
I collected only the simplest ideas on Pinterest (see my Fish Fun idea board here) and came up with this simple menu:

  • Peanut Butter & Jelly Sandwiches
  • Tuna Sandwiches
  • Fresh Fruit {blueberries, strawberries, apples}
  • Fresh Veggies {carrots, celery}
  • Ants on Log {the celery, peanut butter & dried cranberry variety}
  • Circle Crackers with Peanut Butter
  • Blue Jello & Mini Marshmallows
  • Fishy Crackers

Pretty sophisticated, huh? Well, they thought so, anyway! The kids had a blast creating these delicacies – and everything but the veggie slicing & dicing was completely doable by a two and five year old. We invited a very special guest and had a blast chowing down and reading stories from some of our favorite pond dwelling characters. I had planned to incorporate crafts and all kinds of other activities, but no one seemed to notice anything lacking, in fact it all went just swimmingly! Here’s a few more shots of our creations:
{inspired by Jill, who makes the most inspiring food art for her kids, and fabulous crafts, too at Meet the Dubiens.  This is a mash up of her fish in water and swimming fishies  }
{a little pond scene replete with snails and logs, again inspired by Jill’s lovely caterpillars}
{inspired by another Jill, who also makes food art that my kids would surely swoon over at Kitchen Fun with My Three Sons, and her awesome shark}

So tell me, do you have any special, unexpected ways you show or tell your kids you love them? Or maybe a special memory of something simple that stands out in your mind from your own childhood? I’d love to hear!

Jan 09

On Recovering from Rough Days

Sometimes mornings don’t roll out of the right side of the bed, and an afternoon can unravel without warning.  Today was one of those days, when piles of dishes and tired kids’ meltdowns intersected with the intensity of the day’s commitments and a heart-weary woman. Their so called nap time [Heh.] consisted of wailing in one room and raucous laughter in the other, and my sanity was waning.
But somehow, in the middle of the afternoon, a recovery was made. Their night ended with Snowy Day and lullabies, and mine with slightly softening heart and strewn toys re-ordered, even if the sink, still piled high, whispers even now of tomorrow’s litany looming.

And I’m not sure when the turning happened, but it had me pondering the practical ways we crawl out from the chaos, in the midst of the crazy. And I thought of my mom, a master of the practical, and the simple gestures that can change our course, when we’re too soul-weary to see the forest from the trees, the just-get-you-through-the-day-til-you-can-get-the-quiet-your-soul-needs kinds of practicalities. So here’s five that seem to work when desperation strikes here, every now and then:
1. Eliminate the word NO from your vocabulary for a day.

This was my mom’s number one tip.  Decide for the day, even the hour, that the word NO will not pass through your lips. Whether its the chicken or the egg, sometimes a constant negative response begets a cycle of conflict.  Now, I’m not suggesting you say yes to any request (Sure, honey, you swing your brother from that chandelier!) but consciously choosing to ban NO causes us to think about what we’re saying, to pause long enough to hear the heart behind the question.  Redirect, if necessary, but let this day be one where you choose in.  Just for today.

2. Make a change of scenery.
A trip to the library. A desperate plea for a spontaneous playdate with that friend you’ve been meaning to connect with. The back yard. Sometimes just leaving the chaos behind can create a buffer zone, embarking on a new adventure gives everyone an opportunity for a new start.  Sure, you will have to come back to it, but you’ll have gotten out, turned a page.

3. Accomplish something {singular}.
Let go of the long list of how things should have gone today, and focus on one small, attainable goal. Bleach the tub, organize the junk drawer, sweep the floor or make cookies. (Hmmm… tough call there.)  Give yourself a free pass for the day from all that you’d hoped to accomplish, just for this day, and soak in the satisfaction of one small job done well.

4. Join the resistance.
Sometimes, turning the tables upside down, putting on your bunny slippers, and announcing an impromptu screening of Mary Poppins in a pillow fort gives everybody a break. That means you, too, Mama.  Leave your smartphone or copy of the Hunger Games in another room, and be fully present in the ridiculousness. Go all out, have the pillow fight, and start fresh with new structure and systems tomorrow.

5. Make an SOS call.
Give your kids a free pass, something that will occupy them for at least twenty glorious minutes (my new favorite, courtesy of a wise mama: a classic read-aloud audio book from the library & a big box of Lego) and call a friend. Admit defeat. Let her give you a pep talk and remind you that you’re normal. Be honest, laugh at yourself, and give your kids a hug before your jump back in. Do pizza or cereal for dinner, keep it simple.

And when you’ve made it through the day, and you will, friend, and they’re all miraculously sleeping, you can take the time you really need. Pick-up the mess and re-order your brain, center your soul, take a bath, or implement a new plan of attack for the routines and responsibilities of the day. Figure out what works for you to restore peace and order to your heart and home; its different for everyone.  And remember, the way the day starts or the how of it’s unraveling does not determine the way it ends. (Ask Micha.) And tomorrow is a new day, hope springs eternal, and there will be new mercies with the morning sun. So hang in there, okay?

Do you have a practical tip to turn the tides of crazy day?  Leave a comment & tell us: what works for you?

Jan 02

New Year {the Quiche & the Quiet}

Happy New Year, friends.  I wanted to share a few pictures from our weekend, which was completely uneventful – save a much anticipated family camp out in the living room for New Year’s Eve.  Complete with a documentary about turtles.  Oh, yeah, we know how to rock in a new year. Hope yours was wonderful, too. Here’s a few photos from our weekend…
Oh, yes. The kids love it on hot chocolate, but a wise woman I once knew added whipped cream and cinnamon-sugar to her coffee every day. That’s right, folks. Every. Day. We may or may not have gone through two bottles over New Years weekend.
A certain individual enjoyed many hours cutting out paper dolls. . .

. . . as did her daughter.
I’m not going to lie, I love playing with my kids.
Time seemed to move slow, and I think we needed it much more than we realized.  The kids played, I found a few hours to myself, one happy man organized his office. It was just calm and quiet, sort of a rarity for us, and very welcome.
My sister’s birthday would have been this week, and on Sunday I spent an unexpected hour visiting with my her daughter, and some of her biological family.  They needed directions to the place we laid her body, and I met them at the cemetery, because I know the way by trees and hills, not plots or numbers. And it was good to return, and see my sister’s smile in her daughter’s face, and remember and mark the time and the healing that’s happened and acknowledge the ache that’s still there. `
And these graced our island counter top all weekend. They’re cutting boards that tell a story.
A gift from my parents, they were hand-made by the farmer who lives across the street from my childhood home, on the farm whose dirt roads bore tread marks of four huffy bikes and whose barns provided playhouses as big as our imaginations, the same farm where we celebrating our wedding eight short years ago.  Now retired, one of the farmers crafts these from wood harvested from the old farm, which sold the year after our wedding.
And on Sunday, delayed and ultimately cancelled plans with friends landed us home with a quiche already made.  Growing up, my mom always had lunch timed perfectly so we could walk in the door & eat.  It’s a skill I have not inherited or cultivated, but the ease and sweetness of our serendipitous Sunday lunch this week reminded me why its worth the early morning prep.
Here’s the super-easy recipe my mom published in the church cookbook the year the first of her daughters married. Instead of writing her recipes again & again for each of us, she just submitted all of her recipes to the committee, who loved her, and published all seven million of them.  The title reads Cooking with Grace, but it would be more aptly called Cooking with Mrs. Q. Just in case you ever wonder why cookbook committees limit submissions…

Quiche

1 prepared pie crust*
4-5 eggs
1/2 c. milk
1 c. shredded cheddar cheese
2 c. ham or 2 c. broccoli**
1/4 tsp. pepper
1/4 tsp. baking powder***

Combine all ingredients and pour into pie shell.  Bake at 425 degrees for 35 minutes.

* My mom makes pie crust in huge batches, and freezes them.  The same person who may or may not have consumed all that whip cream may or may not have used a Pillsbury one for these lovely ones.

**I always half the ham and add all kinds of other ingredients.  This week I did one ham & spinach (quickly sauteed with onions & spices, in extra virgin olive oil) and one one vegetable- with onion, spinach, roasted red pepper, and tomatoe, all sauteed with my favorite spices. I think you could experiment with other cheeses, too.

***I don’t think I ever add this, but here it is in the original recipe.

Happy New Year, friends!

And counting thanks today with Ann and friends at A Holy Experience.  I’m grateful for….
- this quiet weekend
- a routine morning, back at homeschooling for Laura, just a normal day here
- whipped cream on coffee
- paper dolls
- the book I bought Ted for Christmas, that I’ve been devouring
- a new journal
- cutting boards & remembering & memory making
- a long conversation with a kindred friend
- the way her biological sister sounds just like my adopted sister’s did, and the gift of hearing that voice
- easy recipes I can’t mess up
- two little people who love to laugh
- 2012

Nov 15

Apple Pie & Embracing the Unexpected


I have a wise friend who says none of us have control issues: we have illusion of control issues.  Ask the woman whose baby has been torn from her womb, or the one who lives in a place and time where healthy children are miracles, not assumptions. And I have felt its sting these days, the white-knuckled panic of stepping into things unknown: MRI’s and teaching hospitals and diagnoses with names I’m still learning to pronounce, uninvited reminders that I do not know what the future holds.

And I have espoused trust on the outside, and striven hard to make this trust work.  I remember when I labored, swollen nine months full with my eldest daughter– this eldest, the one who skips into waiting rooms and rolls her eyes when I ask if her back hurts and tells me, with a slight hint of annoyance that forecasts teenage years a decade away, she answers, “Mom,” (as if it’s a two syllable word) “this is just the way God made me.” And when I was in labor with this child, I knew that I must relax my muscles to dilate, and I had studied up and read the book and taken the classes, and I knew in my brain how to relax, and I worked hard at it, and I down right stressed out over relaxing for many a painful hour that long night. And I could not do it.

And that long night was all I could think about last week, as I worked so hard to trust.  But trust, I am learning, is not something I can produce.  It has more to do with unclenching fists than careful crafting, more leaning into than laboring to construct.

And I snapped last Thursday night, and admitted I’m afraid, sore afraid.  I put voice to the reality that I am willing to trust up to a certain point, and when asked to even consider the possibility that that point could appear on the horizon, I revolt, and none of this belief or understanding – the books I’ve read and classes I’ve taken, none of it means anything in the moment when fear rushes in.  And I am discovering that hiding that fear under a veneer of the appearance of trust keeps me trapped there, just fear and I, alone, running circles around the what-ifs and worst-cases.

I expected the world to fall apart, when I said it, that I was afraid, and was struggling to trust God with the unknowns and the tomorrows. But it didn’t.  Grace caught me, all unexpected.  In the listening ears of a weary, steady husband, grace caught me.   In friends who care and ask and listen, grace caught me. And in family who know how to minister deep with their prayer and apple pies, with text messages and coffee and listening presence, near and from across the country.  And the comfort I receive reminds me that grace abounds, is always pulsing through this broken world, offered free and deep.

Today, I’m wondering why in the world does trouble and heartache and the weakness of my faith surprise me, and when did I become so healthy and fine… just fine, thank you, that I was not desperate for grace and living water?  It is the sick who need a doctor, and this day, I am the one who is needing treatment.

I am wearied by surviving by my own sufficiency and the false comfort of all the little securities in this world. The cracking open and breaking down of all these illusions of control plunges me back into the grace, and I am thankful for the brokenness that reveals His grace.  And I am grateful for the grace-givers who lead me there.

Counting Thanks Today with Ann & this sweet community:
-  For my Mom’s apple pie, and the comfort of family
-  For long distance prayer
-  For sisters who listen
-  Teaching hospitals and compassionate doctors
-  Sunny afternoons jumping in leaves
-  Happy play dates
-  A favorite stuffed animal, dearly missed and now found
-  A pumpkin chai and long talk with a new friend on a windy day
-  The intersection of Operation Christmas Child and Compassion’s Ecquador Trip and the passion it’s stirring here

Jun 27

The Art of Garage Sale-ing

The inspiration for Mirror Mirror Mondays has gotten away from me for a while, but I’m back this morning with a fun find, inspired by my dear mother.  Let me start by saying that my mom could make a sport of garage sale-ing.  When we registered for gifts for our wedding, my Mom created her own competition to see how many items off our registry she could find at garage sales. Never mind the fact that people were giving us new ones.  (They don’t make ‘em like they used to, you know, cloth cords on waffle irons and all!)

All kidding aside, though.  She’s pretty amazing at scoring incredible deals and has an pretty spot-on sense of value . Fabulous Kitchen-Aid Stand Mixer for $35 bucks? Yes, please! I’m working at flexing my bargain hunting skills. Here’s a few tips I’ve picked up from her: She’s totally willing to make outrageously low offers, and totally willing to walk away if a price seems ridiculous.  She doesn’t fill her house up with junk.  She hunts for items that hold significant meaning (that elusive Shirley Temple pitcher missing from her grandmother’s almost complete cereal box set, or a prized chocolate pot – found after years of hunting).  Her best advice: Always have something in the back of your mind that you are looking for, but never leave behind a great deal (Hello, KitchenAid!) or treasure.

This weekend she found a warehouse where costumes and sets from old Broadway shows were stored, selling everything garage-sale style.  I headed over to see what all the hullabaloo was about.  And although the gowns from White Christmas were already sold, the $395 old fashioned cash register from West Side story was still there, along with this very ornate, but very sweet frame, housing the original photo, still sealed in and matted with silk.  My budget didn’t allow for the register, (which would have looked awesome in our dining room!) but I did snag the frame for $5.  I should have my Mom start hunting for that cash register.  No doubt she’d find it for a quarter!

Oct 25

Bringing the Fall Bounty Inside

It’s Mirror-Mirror Monday, and I’m remembering many fall days spent outside under golden trees, gathering leaves and acorns and all kinds of specimens.  I remember my mom ironing leaves between wax paper for us, and to this day still find leaves pressed between pages of childhood books. Fall is the time to bring the outdoors in! It doesn’t take much know-how or any money to make the inside of your house harvest-worthy, and its a good thing since we’d much rather be outside enjoying these beautiful fall days!  But for those blustery few, when you’re stuck inside, here’s a few ideas from our home to yours!

{a} serving up pine cones with a side of gourd (b) berry garlands go up in autumn and serve their purpose through Valentine’s Day {c} orange and brown buntings leftover from a birthday party make everyday festive {d} my children’s favorite fall decoration: shocking {e} simple rows of candles and a wood shaving rose wreath, random leaves and gourds
{a} an antique tractor from this weekend’s garage sale-ing chugs past a pumpkin on its way upstairs {b} a little vase of mums adds color to the sink {c} more mum sprigs (casualties from gardening with preschoolers) and gourds {d} Ball jars that are daily filled with treasures – acorns, decapitated mums, and the millions of “but-this-one-is-special” leaves that make their way inside

Happy Harvest, all!

Oct 04

Yesterday

All my life I’ve heard people use the expression “it seems like only yesterday” and assumed it was a nostalgic notion, a sweet little hyperbole.  But tonight the Rubbermaid bins emerged from the basement, the telltale sign of the changing of seasons for mothers of multiple same gender children.

Sorting and sifting through Laura’s old clothes to replenish little Ellie’s wardrobe for fall, I realized it’s not sweet at all.  It’s a jarring epiphany that time is going so fast that one may actually be loosing her mind.

As I checked tags and made piles, I felt as if I had entered some kind of alter reality. I know in my head that it has been two and a half years since I pulled out that soft white sweater with the embroidered rose on the shoulder that Laura wore almost every time it was clean. (I know because I did the math several times to make sure.) But I cannot fathom that it has actually been years since then. Years! It literally feels like it was yesterday.  I now know that this overused little expression is less a sweet sentiment, more a confession of lunacy.

So as time flies by today, at a rate I cannot comprehend, I am taking pictures (of the kids too, not just the piles of clothes!), treasuring moments in my heart, and embracing a posture of gratitude, even for piles of laundry that will cloth healthy kids and keep them warm as seasons change and little people grow.

Sep 27

Welcome, Autumn

Fall.
Without hesitation,
my favorite season.

The harvest.
The reaping.
The gathering in
and the gathering together.

Leaves turning ablaze
a final act of beauty
before their dance of decent.

Making ready for the cold,
still winter,
whose dormancy silently
makes room for new life.

Going out in glory.

Jul 12

Kuplink. Kuplank. Kuplunk.

Guess what we did this weekend (Friday, actually).
That’s right.
Blueberry picking.
At a local farm.

I remember picking berries with my mom & sisters as a kid.
It’s an ideal activity for little, tiny people.
And there’s nothing like the taste of berries fresh off the bush – warmed by the sun.

Can you see her leaping off the ground, in anticipation?

Have you ever let one of your babies eat endless blueberries all morning?
Let’s just say what goes around comes around. But she loved it.

Taking five.

Yum.

Ellie ate all the berries she could reach from her stroller.
I also found several half-eaten leaves when she got up.

Almost done.

Wish we could share some with you today!  Happy Monday.

May 24

Sowing Seeds of Thankfulness

Three weeks since we moved in, and for the first time, this afternoon both girls are napping – actually full fledged asleep – at the same glorious time! Can you sense my smile beaming through your screen?  I’ve told several people that I feel like time stopped, and I lost weeks of life when my sister passed away earlier this spring, and now with the temperature threatening to climb into the nineties tomorrow, I feel like time has been racing forward without any reprieve.  We’ve been swept up in the chaos of purchasing our first home, packing, moving, unpacking, and the endless projects this almost centennial house affords.  So today, in the quiet, I feel like I’ve been hurled out of tornado, and have landed in a lovely little home, with a sweet summer breeze wafting through the attic, where I sit perched for a few minutes of solitude, and the extra gift of time to write!

I am learning, in this transition, probably for the 457th time in my life, the value of the discipline of thankfulness.  The other night, as I scrubbed and Murphy Oil Soaped our dining room floor for the first time (I know, I know, almost three weeks after moving in… what can I say?), I was grinning from ear to ear, that this was our floor, that we had a house, with jobs to do to take care of it.  And it occurred to me that I would probably not feel such elation at the prospect of cleaning this house forever.  There’s so much novelty to playing house.  I see it in Laura, who tells strangers she meets that her new house has an attic, but really, we’re all enjoying the newness (except maybe Ellie, who has been largely contained by a combination of Pack & Play/exer-saucer/Johnny-Jumper/Crib rotation for the past few weeks). It’s easy to be thankful when something is new and exciting.

I know there will be a day when scrubbing floors and yard work feel more like prison bars than a gift. So I am working on the practicing thankfulness now, so the habit is well developed, and rooted in me when that day comes. I’m practicing by remembering to give thanks, to actually express it- to God, to my husband, around my kids.  I’m practicing by letting gratitude simmer and mull in me, by thinking on the good, the lovely.  And I’m practicing by giving thanks for the things that have been and continue to be hard about this move, because I want to give thanks in all things – the good, the bad, and the ugly.

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