Boreal Witch

Dear Arthur,

This week you turned six. I can't believe how much you have grown. I can't believe that six years ago this month I held you in my arms - my first perfect little bundle - and wondered what kind of a person you'd someday be.

How sweet you've become.
How curious and inquisitive.
How bright and intelligent.
How thoughtful of others.

Most of your birthday was spent with your classmates. You helped me frost the eggless cupcakes we made so that your friend Cameron (who is allergic to eggs and peanut butter) could have one. "Cameron always gets another treat," you said, "because he can't eat store-bought cupcakes." The icing was a delicious chocolate buttercream and the tiny bits of strawberry we put on top were the perfect compliment.

You got off the bus that Wednesday wearing your birthday crown and a big smile, telling me that everyone sang "Happy Birthday" and that you had given all the extra cupcakes to some of the other kindergarten teachers.

Balin had picked out a special birthday present for you; unfortunately, it was not much of a surprise. He wanted you to open it so badly because he knew you'd like it so much that he kept telling you what it was. You, like your father, do not like spoilers.

Your birthday party was a little rough, I know, because not all of your friends could make it. My heart ached for you because it's so much fun to celebrate happy occasions with people you care about. But everyone who was able to come had a wonderful time. The marshmallow shooters were everybody's favorite.

I am surprised by your accomplishments everyday and I cannot wait to see how much more you grow this next year.

Love, Mommy

I've been quilting for a while now. I've got a fabric stash and more scraps than I know what to do with. That's normal for quilters...but the trick is to make sure you've got the time to go through those scraps and actually make a few quilts.

I am finally putting together a quilt for myself. It's going to be lovely: pink, green, brown, and yellow.

As I'm going through my 3" fabric bin, I discover that I don't have a lot of yellow scraps.

Is it personal preference? (I'm naturally drawn to greens.)

Is it because I've made more quilts for boys? (Hm. More blues and greens.)

Is it because 60% of the American population's favorite color is blue? (More blue...)

So, what's a quilter to do?

I could buy more fabric, but good-quality fabric can be upwards of $15-$18 a yard. Even the fat quarters at some quilt shops are upwards of $3 each. (This may seem like a deal to all you non-quilters out there, but considering there are 4 fat quarters for every yard, you are still paying $12 a yard for that fabric.)

There are a few other quilters in my area, so I may attempt some kind of a swap. (Which, oddly enough, I've never done before...)

And, of course, there are fabric hunts at thrift stores. The issue with second-hand fabric is that you can't be sure of the quality.

I make very few orange, red, and purple quilts, too; mostly because I lack the fabric to make them.

Maybe I need to bite the bullet and re-stock my stash, but $20 won't get me very far!

Honey, can I have $500 to buy some fabric?

Blessed be.

Is it time to go back to school yet?

This week has been exhausting.

Robinson took the entire week off. We planned to take the boys to Chicago and check out a few other museums in the area. There's a nice natural history museum and children's museum in Rockford.

Our boys haven't ever really shown any interest in dinosaurs, but after reading about the Berenstain Bears' visit to their natural history museum, the boys wanted to see dinosaurs. (The Berenstain Bears are quite beloved at our house. The boys are known to read these books repeatedly.) They saw Homer (a triceratops) and Jane (a T-rex). They saw a two-minute movie about Jane (which Balin would not stop talking about). They saw snakes, fish, and lots and lots of shark teeth.

Then there was our trip to Chicago.

We went to the Lego Discovery Center (which the boys loved, loved, loved!). They got to play on this huge indoor playground, learn how Legos were made, see the Chicago skyline in Lego form, pretend they were destroying a Lego Death Star, and blast spiders and targets. After we got settled at our hotel, we went to the Melting Pot for dinner (the boys love fondue, so we thought it appropriate) and went to the Lego store.

The Lego Store was probably the most disappointing part of the trip. Six years ago, when Robinson and I visited, the Lego Store was amazing. It was huge. It had Lego statues of Darth Vader and R2-D2. It had Lego dioramas everywhere. They sold t-shirts, keychains, and every Lego kit imaginable.

The Chicago Lego Store of today was exactly like the Milwaukee Lego Store. Which is too bad because we had talked it up to Josh.

Of course, the boys didn't know the difference. They got to build a few mini-figures and they were completely happy.

Robinson and Balin got sick. Balin's off running around, but Robinson's treating it like the plague. Not that I blame him. Much. After all, getting sick is no fun...but I'll admit, there's a grain of truth to the whole "men act like babies when they get sick" stereotype.

And now, it's Sunday, the last day of Spring Break. I'm looking forward to a nice, quiet Monday at home with Balin. Reading the Berenstain bears, of course!

Blessed be.

This stay-at-home-mom thing is getting harder.

There have been some mornings when I wake up and my first thought is, "Great. Another day. Which was the same as yesterday. And the day before."

I don't lead a very exciting life - at least not the excitement I want. At most, excitement means consoling one of the boys because he was poked in the eye/jumped on/hit/bumped/etc. or watching the boys' amusement in the new. The former is exhausting because it happens too often. The latter is delightful because it doesn't happen enough. Sometimes I think the boys don't like leading hum-drum lives, either.

While I'd rather be traveling, hiking, or seeing the country, I'm actually sewing fitted sheets from flat sheets, cooking, or doing laundry.

And it's depressing when I realize that I've been going this for almost six years now.

I have to believe that there's more to my life. It's the only thing that keeps me sane some days.

This can't be as good as it gets, right?

I don't buy into society's mantra that parenthood is worth it. Most days it is utterly exhausting. I don't believe that I'll ever wish that my boys were this small again. There are some people who make this look so easy. I've been told I'm one of them. Is that true? Do I make parenthood look easy?

Because it isn't. It's hard.

But yet I persist. I have to. I have to be selfless. For now. One day I will be able to be selfish again. One day I will be able to spend my days in silence except for the tapping of the keyboard or the hum of my sewing machine.

Until then, I am in charge of two wonderful, sweet boys.

Blessed be.