white apples . a blog

Luebeck, Germany, here and now

Even though it's been over a year, it seems I'm not quite ready to give up this space. Often I compose little posts in my head, but then they slip away in the flurry of our days. After everyone has had their stories and snuggles and final glasses of water for the night, I sink into the couch with nothing much to say about the craziness and exhaustion and gratitude and wonder that fills my life.

But in this moment, I find myself in the unusual position of sitting on a cold, rooftop patio of a hotel in Luebeck, Germany, with only a laptop and a fiddly knitting project to keep me company. And since that knitting project has been knit and un-knit and re-knit far too many times to count, I've thrown down the needles and am passing these lazy hours by looking through old photographs and wondering at how quickly it all passes by.

The littlest is not so little. He's big in every way. He's loud and full of energy, with wide open smiles and a huge appetite for all that life has to offer an 18-month-old - which is mainly food and hugs and getting muddy while chasing after his brother and sister. I spend the whole day chasing this tornado and when I catch him, he throws his arms around me and nuzzles his head into my neck and yells mama. Life with a toddler is big. Certainly. Big love, big messes, big lessons, big frustrations, big changes - such beautiful will.

But life with a seven-year-old. Now that's big living. First grade is full of big firsts and she is soaking it up like a sponge - reading and math, music and languages and handwork, art in everything and joy in everything. But first grade is also full of big feelings and the complexity of it all takes my breath away sometimes. Simple interactions with friends can become complicated and fraught with emotions one moment and then calm and playful the next. Her brothers too can frustrate then delight. But most of all, her emotions crash into me and we dance this complicated mama-daughter dance of frustration and boundaries, disagreements and demands, nurturing and letting go. And sometimes I wonder if I'm doing the right thing at all, and sometimes I wonder if I'm too hard on her, and sometimes words fail me completely and I don't know what to say. And then there are these moments when she curls up into my lap, all long arms and legs and wild girl-child hair, and I rock her back and forth and love her endlessly and remember that seven is big, but still so little.

And then there is the middle one. He is the stillness between the two fiery siblings. He is complicated, sure. He is a mystery. He is deep waters, this boy. He is my heart twin; my heart has known his since the moment he was born. Sensitive, thoughtful, focused.  He loves home and quiet, purposeful work. He is the champion of all things small. He lives in details. But he, too, is on the brink of that big six-year-old change and what it will look like is another mystery.

My hope with all of them is that I meet them where they are and that I know them for who they are. And that is a big task. That is the real work of parenting. And to know them is to learn more about myself in the process - my limits and failings, my own baggage - and to grow, sometimes painfully, in the process. That is the real gift of parenting. And where it all collides into this messy, crazy, loud, imperfect thing that is our life... well, there's real grace there. And for that, I am grateful every single day.

Which brings me back to this rooftop patio and this unfamiliar silence and the strange but welcome feeling of having nothing at all to do. This is supposed to be my little vacation, a few days to breathe and relax. And sometimes that's all it takes to see things clearly. And to know where you belong.

years float by

Hilton Head, South Carolina. I've been going there off and on for the past fourteen years. It is strange and comforting to visit a place over and over again, especially in that time of your life when everything changes. When you go from being an anchorless and wayward college student with an independent streak to being a mother and wife and lover of all things quiet and cosy. When you see how timeless a place can be, with its beards of Spanish moss and gnarled trees and flat beachy expanses, when you see those things stand still, you realize how far you have travelled. And you can feel nothing but gratitude for that journey and for those who have travelled beside you those long years.

For the kids though, a new place is a new adventure. And this was a much needed adventure after all the long days of winter spent bundled up in woolies and boots.

summer travels

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.

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inspired by Amanda Soule. join in on her blog.

like a leaf or a feather

I spend all those long summer days dreaming of autumn - of leaves crunching and wind rustling, of bright, crisp afternoons and leaf piles and acorn treasures and pumpkin-scented goodies. And our autumn was filled with all those lovely, russet-colored moments. But it was also filled with trips and deadlines and all the general busy-ness that seems to pick up towards the end of the year.

These photos are from a trip into the mountains with dear friends in early November. The leaves were still clinging and the water was swift and cold and the spice-scent of autumn was still heavy in the air. All that is gone now, of course. The Advent season is here and the winter solstice is just around the corner and, goodness, the year is almost over.

Our Decembers are a crazy collision of birthdays and holidays, plans and hosting and preparing. Every year, I create a long to-do list for the holiday season - crafts and sewing and decorating and baking and whole host of handmade gifts. And every year, I fall way short. Instead of the lovely pieced and quilted tree skirt, we have one from Target. Instead of the hand-crafted, customized Advent calendar, we have the little cardboard ones with the awful chocolate behind the squares (Juni and Owen, however, are huge fans of awful chocolate, so that worked out just fine). And instead of mostly handmade gifts, I will be lucky to finish two, perhaps three, things before Santa comes a-knockin'.

Winter, though, is surely the season for patience and letting go. And so, we will bake cookies and decorate gingerbread houses and sing Christmas songs and talk about Santa and little baby Kings in hushed, awe-filled voices and forget all those silly plans I made in the heat of summer. Perhaps next year.

I am, however, working on Juniper's rainbow blankie for her birthday. This is what she requested in lieu of a birthday sweater.

"Is it going to have all the colors, mama? All of them?"

The pattern is the Forever Baby Blanket from the Purl Bee. It is an easy knit with a nice thick, squishy texture, perfect for snuggling. I'm using some bits of Dream in Color Classy yarn for the rainbow, inspired by Waldorfmama's beautiful garter stitch blanket. And for another lesson in letting go, Juni found a little embroidery scissors a few days ago and snipped the blanket in several places, forcing me to frog back a couple of stripes. Oh, the heartbreak. Now I have seven more days and five stripes to go before my baby girl turns three.

(And because I just happen to be posting about knitting on a Wednesday, I'm linking up with Ginny from small things for her wonderful knitting and reading Yarn Along. I just started reading The Lover's Dictionary by David Levithan.)

a Nashville weekend

It was her first time on a airplane in about a year. She had her own seat. And her own little backpack. As the plane sped down the runway, she yelled, "Wheeee!! We're going fast! We're going fast!" Throughout the flight, she kept up a running commentary on the clouds and the color of the airplane (blue) and the tops of the trees. She learned all about the airplane "rules" - buckle your seat belt, turn off your electronic devices during takeoff and landing, don't kick the seat in front of you. Upon landing, she shouted, "That was a close one!" I certainly hope not.

While the plane ride was fun, I think Juni had the most fun playing with Hayden - going to the park and farmer's market, playing in the baby pool and having a snack picnic, generally running amok in Craig and Gina's lovely house. There was the typical amount of elbowing and toy snatching, but there were also so many sweet hugs and toddler games and just gobs of little kid excitement. 

As for Charlie and me, we got to catch up with old friends, discover a new city, eat incredible food, and watch our kids enjoy the last bits of summer together.

the fourth of july trip

Juniper has always been up for an adventure. She thrives on new experiences, new places and faces and things to see. The excitement of a whole new house to explore, things to touch, places to run. She loves a road trip, chatting the whole time about all the things whizzing by outside the window, anticipating the destination, savoring the journey, giggling the whole time. She has always been that kid - fearless and adaptable.

 

Owen is wary of anything new. He is thoughtful and cautious and quick to startle. He enjoys the familiar and cozy and predictable. Regular naptimes, regular mealtimes, regular bedtimes. He cried pitifully, heartbreakingly for most of the many hours it took us to drive from North Carolina to southern New Jersey, wondering what on earth might warrant such long and uncomfortable travels.

We had a wonderful Fourth of July weekend with Charlie's family, mostly lounging by the pool or at the beach, enjoying the beautiful summer weather. Juni spent every moment she could in the water, splashing in the waves with her daddy or her uncle, kicking around the pool in her "floaty wings". "Look at me! I'm a Juni fish!" Indeed. When she wasn't channeling her inner fish, she was picking blueberries and riding the carousel on the boardwalk and zigzagging around the little zoo nearby (where she met the most adorable two-day-old baby camel).

Owen avoids the water and the sun, so he spent most of the weekend lounging and dozing and crawling around in the shady spots. He enjoyed a few moments of fun in the sand and a bit of toe-dangling in the pool before crawling back to the sand- and water-free safety of my lap with an expression of mild panic on his face. Though while crawling around on Grandmom's lovely new deck, he did manage to stumble upon some tasty ears of Jersey corn. Little adventures can be just as grand as big adventures, especially for this little guy.

goodbye summer

With the much anticipated arrival of our little boy in October, this Fall promises to be one spent cozying up indoors with calming rituals and pumpkin-spiced goodies and the dizzying, disorienting, amazing new addition in our lives. Therefore, one last Summer adventure was in order.

Last weekend, our friend, Craig, invited us to stay at a lovely beach house in Emerald Isle, NC, with his family, his parents, and his sister's family. Juniper finally got to meet Ella and baby Hayden, and Charlie and I had a wonderful time chatting with friends, watching our children play, and enjoying the last bit of Summer by the shore.

Juniper is fearless when it comes to her love of the water. The hurricanes in the Atlantic had churned up the surf quite a bit, resulting in huge waves, strong currents, and rather dangerous swimming conditions. Without warning, Juni would charge toward the waterline, utterly delighting in the waves washing over her face and the currents dragging at her feet. Given how long it took to hoist my very pregnant self up off the sand each time she strayed, we are lucky Gina and Jennifer were there to hang on to her or I'm afraid she would have most certainly been carried out to sea to live with the mer-people.

Our final day there, we visited an area with calm, shallow tidal pools - much safer for our little wanderer and much easier on this mama's water-phobic nerves. Since our return, Juni has been begging to go back to the beach, squealing with delight at any photo of the ocean or the shoreline. Next Summer, little one.

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

*** *** ***

inspired by Amanda Soule. join in on her blog.

August Travels, Part 3

Another day at the beach, in pictures.