kara

Links I Love

The world, things, stories are so interesting and so much of it can be found online. I think Andy is tired of me saying, several times every night, “Hey, look at this!” and shoving my laptop in his face. So, with a nod to A Cup of Jo, I’m going to start sharing Links I Love every so often. I hope you enjoy.

• I love interesting light fixtures (as is obvious to anyone who stands in our entry) and currently I’m obsessed with these Japanese paper floral fixtures. It would be oh so lovely in my dining room.

• Right now we’re reading Charlotte’s Web to Sophie before bed. Perhaps that’s why I was drawn to this gorgeous pendant that holds a stunning preserved spider web. How is this possible?

• If you’re as much a fan of Nora Ephron as I am, please take the time to read her son Jacob Bernstein’s beautiful essay in The New York Times, “Nora Ephron’s Final Act.”

• My favorite eye shadow.

• Have you heard of The Brush Factory? It was co-founded by Hayes Shanesy, the son of one of my former editors at Popular Woodworking. I like all.their.things, particularly this gradient shelf in walnut.

• This weekend I’m hoping to take my first meditation class at Grace Tree Yoga and Growth Studio, led by a dear friend, Erin Tilling.

• Pasta With Zucchini and Goat Cheese—what I’m making for dinner tonight. It’s become a family favorite.

• I would love to buy this house. Alas, it’s (a bit) out of my price range.

• I am anxiously waiting on a delivery from Nettleton Hollow. Founded in 2005 by Justin Brandreth Potter, this Brooklyn-based business sells gorgeous preserved branches and botanicals. Today’s delivery should include flax stems and craspedia. I’m so looking forward to introducing a little bit of everlasting spring to my home.

• When the kids were younger, cutting grapes was always a tiresome task for me. If only I had had a pair of these—it would have made the chore so much nicer.

“You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what’s a life, anyway? We’re born, we live a little while, we die. A spider’s life can’t help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone’s life can stand a little of that.” —E.B. White

March Snow

This winter has not been kind to us in terms of sickness. Early December all five of us had a stomach virus (a nightmare). Early February, despite flu shots, we were all sick with something viral, which my doctor suspected was a mild case of the flu. And which, a week later, turned into pinkeye. Last week, something viral invaded our family again.

Late Tuesday night Sophie’s temperature peaked at 106.5°. We called the doctor on call. Gave her Tylenol and Ibuprofen. Woke her up every hour to check her temperature and make sure she was lucid (which was difficult to determine as she was groggy with sleep). Her temperature dropped and steadied (although it was still high) so we avoided the ER but took her in to see the pediatrician first thing the next morning. Aside from a cough, everything checked out—including a flu test. But later that afternoon, she started complaining about abdominal pain and her fever peaked at 104.5°. Back to the pediatrician again (same day). She was tested for a UTI—nothing. So we continued monitoring her, giving her Tylenol, Ibuprofen and Delsym.

Of course Owen and James also had colds and fevers, with Owen’s temperature peaking at 105° one night. And then I caught it. And then Andy. James started complaining about his ear, so back to the doctor we went—double ear infection and the start of bronchitis.

With sickness comes fussiness. Thursday morning, before I knew James had an ear infection, I tried to pick him up while he was throwing a terrible tantrum on the kitchen floor. He flung his head up and his skull caught my chin. It hurt, the kind of hurt that instantly brings tears to your eyes. I put him down. Walked to the bathroom. Shut the door and cried as a bruise formed on the underside of my chin and blood formed on my lip, where my teeth caught the skin. At that point I had a fever too. I was exhausted from overnight temperature checks. I wanted to rip out my lungs from coughing. I had three screaming children outside my door and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed. My phone rang. It was my mom calling me on her cell. She was on her way. With lunch. I did that awful cry-talk back to her, thanking her.

How do moms do that? She called at the exact moment I needed to hear her. I can only hope I’m able to do the same for my children when they’re grown.

And then today. Sophie’s temperature came back (low grade, 100.5°) and she was still complaining about abdominal pain. So back to the doctor we went. Next thing I know all four of us are downtown at Children’s Hospital so Sophie can have an x-ray done—poor kid has pneumonia, in her lower right lung.

This winter has been filled with over-the-counter medicine distributed in plastic alligator spoons, around-the-clock temperature checks, inhaler treatments, nebulizer treatments (we own our own machine now), bedroom humidifiers, middle-of-the-night-bundled-up-because-of-the-freezing-temperature porch sits for croup, fussiness, wiping noses constantly, reminding to cover coughs constantly, so many missed days at school. And all I will say about the stomach virus is the laundry. My God. The laundry.

Is this normal? Sophie’s in preschool. Even her teacher was noting how another parent, rightfully so, called the classroom a big petri dish. (And they have a strict sick policy, as well as strict hand-washing policies—every child washes their hands first thing when entering the room.) One morning when I called her in sick I discovered I was the sixth parent to do so that day, in a class of 20-something. I take the boys to Child Watch at the Y—when healthy. We go to the museum—when healthy. We go to the library—when healthy. But then, I can’t help but think doing these things leads to more germs and more sickness. They’re building up their immunity, yes, but it’s exhausting.

And now it’s March. Yesterday we got one last big beautiful snowfall. (And please know that if I had known Sophie had pneumonia, I certainly wouldn’t have let her play outside—for what it’s worth, we were only outside for about 20 minutes … despite the good half hour it took to get geared up to romp around in the snow.)

I love snow, I do. Even today my heart did a little flip flop when I saw our cardinals flit about the snow-covered branches. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. The boys squealed with delight, calling them friends. But I felt less giddy than usual as the big flakes fell this time. I sighed heavier as I dressed the kids in layers. I’m ready for Sunday’s time change. I’m ready to play outside daily. I’m ready to open up all our windows and air out our stuffy, germ-filled house. Even the kids ask daily, “When can we go to the big park?” I want to go to the big park. I want to go to the park sans coats. Sans runny noses. Sans cringe-worthy coughs.

I just hope Punxsutawney Phil was right.

“Nature looks dead in winter because her life is gathered into her heart. She withers the plant down to the root that she may grow it up again fairer and stronger. She calls her family together within her inmost home to prepare them for being scattered abroad upon the face of the earth.” —Hugh Macmillan

My “Beautiful” Hair

Sophie and I played “hair salon” today. I sit on the floor of her room while she brushes and puts barrettes in her dolls’ hair, waiting my turn. When my turn comes she tries to brush it but quickly becomes frustrated, because of the curls. Then she sticks some barrettes near the bottom of my hair, says “It’s beautiful!” and then I get up and finish cleaning the kitchen.

Except today, I forgot about the barrettes.

Three hours later, I took Sophie to ballet and hip hop at the Y.

It wasn’t until the kids’ bath, when Andy walked up behind me and started tugging on a barrette, asking “What’s this about?” that I remembered.

“My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it.” —Mark Twain

A Now-Pink Highchair

Sophie’s dolls (some of which were my dolls, when I was little) eat their meals in the same highchair my dolls used when I was little. Katy and I shared the highchair, as well as a doll crib. It’s seen some great wear, but still, Sophie was thrilled to receive it (Colleen has the crib).

One boring, cold, rainy Saturday afternoon, while the boys were sleeping and Andy was away, I decided we should paint it. Sophie wanted it to be pink, of course, which was easy because we had leftover pink paint from painting her bedroom walls.

And yes, I opened the paint can with a chisel.

And yes, I stirred it with a broken mini-blind rod, which I found in a pile in the basement.

We moved into our house when the boys were three months old. My days were a hard cycle of pumping, feeding, changing, unpacking. Some parts of the move, such as the basement, were never properly dealt with. As the weeks went by and we needed things from the basement we’d dig around in boxes, leaving messes, never organizing a thing. Andy has never minded it but I’ve always felt agitated, walking around our first floor knowing below me was a mini disaster, well beyond your typical basement disaster. (We made a path so our meter reader wouldn’t break an ankle.)

But putting off cleaning the basement is easy to do. Especially with three small children.

However, the frustration I felt trying to find a paint can opener, stirrer and brush in our throw-it-down-the-steps-and-deal-with-it-later basement put me into a full-blown tizzy.

Operation Clean Basement is underway. We understand that we might need assistance from experts in house cleaning in Woodhaven MI so we’ve started searching for local companies online.

Andy is less-than-thrilled. 

Back to the highchair. It’s amazing what a couple coats of paint can do. Sophie loved the project. Sure she missed a bunch of spots, and at times she applied the paint too thickly and too evenly (I did, too). Paint got on the kitchen floor (despite the newspaper) the bottom of her feet (and mine), on my elbow and in her hair. But given that I’m a terrible painter, I loved having her help me. Because no matter how it turned out (and honestly, it turned out surprisingly OK), I could say “Sophie helped me!” when anyone commented on the paint job.

“Life is a great big canvas; throw all the paint you can at it.” —Danny Kaye

Sometimes

My orchid is blooming. It was a Valentine’s Day gift from Andy last year. We only do cards for Valentine’s Day, so it was unexpected, as are all good surprises. And it’s the first time an orchid I’ve owned has ever re-bloomed without me killing it first. Per the instructions, I put a couple ice cubes in the pot every few days—nothing more, nothing less.

I like to pretend I’m an optimist but I’m not. I was skeptical, so skeptical that once the first blooms fell to the marble tabletop and I cut the stems back, I pulled out the propping stakes. I remained skeptical as two new stems grew in deep curves, never properly staking them. And now the stems are heavy, bent with the weight of beautiful, bright white blooms.

Sometimes (a lot of times, if you look for it) good happens.

“Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen to you.” —Sheenagh Pugh

Those. Stairs.

Getting out the door with all three children is tough, especially in cold weather. I refill the diaper bag. I check diapers. I remind Sophie to try to go potty. Again. And again. And again. I find six socks. I put on six socks. I find six shoes. I put on six shoes. I find three coats. I put on three coats. Two out of the three want to zip them on their own. I unzip. One can’t zip on his own, gets frustrated and starts to scream. While I’m solving that matter, another one takes off his shoes and socks. While I’m putting those shoes and socks back on, I’m informed that someone has a stinky diaper.

With the wrong attitude, it can be maddening.

But it’s oh-so-much easier than it used to be. Now I can leave pretty much regardless of the time, without thinking about breast milk and pumping and bottles and bibs and feeding times. Now, if they’re hungry, I just pack snacks. And water bottles. And, of course, my favorite Trader Joe’s organic lollipops for any unexpected meltdowns.

But then there’s the run to the car, and by run I mean they love to run the square of sidewalk/walkway/driveway in the front of our house over and over and over until I’m using my yelling voice and hoping the neighbors don’t think less of me. And then everyone wants to climb in “all by myself I CAN DO IT! all by myself.” And then everyone wants to buckle “all by myself I CAN DO IT! all by myself.” (But they can’t.) And then there are tears because someone wants to push the button so the sliding door closes and then opens but they are already buckled in. And then there are tears because someone else wants the interior lights off even though I explain, again and again, that they turn off automatically when all the doors are shut. And then, when I figure out how to manually turn off all the interior lights regardless of the status of the doors, there are tears because someone else wants them on.

Again, with the wrong attitude, it can be maddening.

But I see a hint of light. Sophie, for example, is in a booster seat. Often, she buckles and unbuckles herself. This brought me such unexpected joy. To think that someday all my children may climb in the van and buckle themselves in …

Even as things continue to get easier, though, something changes. Like where we put on shoes and socks. Lately the boys have insisted that we climb to the top of the stairs for this activity.

I learned early on I must choose my battles. This one, I don’t fight. It’s not worth it, when we’re trying to get out the door. I don’t know why they insist on it, every time. Again, again, with the wrong attitude, it can be maddening. With the right one, I like to think of it as extra exercise. Extra exercise, with a heavy sigh.

“My mom used to say it doesn’t matter how many kids you have … because one kid’ll take up 100% of your time so more kids can’t possibly take up more than 100% of your time.” —Karen Brown

Troy’s Cafe

In January we celebrated my grandma’s birthday …

with dinner at Troy’s Cafe. Part of me hesitates writing this, because it’s such a great suburbia secret. Situated at the end of a strip mall in West Chester, an area awash in chain restaurants, this little gem of a restaurant has delicious, reasonably priced food, desserts and good wine which is easy to get in the ruou ngoai vietnam store online . Andy and I have celebrated an anniversary there. We’ve dragged all our friends up north to celebrate a birthday there. When family is in town, we often eat there—my parents could be considered regulars. It’s small, but I’ve never had to wait. When we have a large group, we make reservations. But still. I don’t understand why it’s not packed, all the time. If you’re also looking for restaurants downtown mall Charlottesville, consider visiting Rapture Restaurant & Nightclub. And if you find yourself vacationing in the beautiful island of Bali, try the fine dining experience offered by Apéritif Restaurant Bali.

If you are planning to host a party, consider hiring a Coffee catering in Chicago to serve coffee to your guests. Looking to serve the finest coffee to make your event unforgettable? Make sure to book Zerno Coffee today.

If you’re looking for Mobile Espresso Austin, mobile espresso services can bring freshly crafted specialty coffee drinks and a professional café-style experience to weddings, corporate events, and private gatherings throughout the Austin area.

Discover new flavors every month with the West Berkshire Roastery coffee subscription. Elevate your event experience with coffee cart hire Sydney, bringing a stylish mobile café setup to your location.

And they are so nice. I have taken many-a-crying child out to the parking lot only to be given extra crayons or a refill of milk upon our return. Two visits ago, Owen dropped his entire cupcake after only one bite. I think he got out only a couple tears before someone from Troy’s just appeared, new cupcake in hand at no cost.

They’re good people.

So there you go. If you live in Cincinnati—especially if you live in West Chester—check it out. Those who are looking for cafes Roanoke may visit Wildflour Café At Towers. Coffee cart Dallas is amazing for events like weddings and birthdays.

“Never trust the food in a restaurant on top of the tallest building in town that spends a lot of time folding napkins.” —Andy Rooney

Clementines

We eat clementines like candy during the winter months. Although Sophie doesn’t technically eat them. She prefers to suck all the juice out, leaving the skins all over her plate (and the dining room table, and coffee table and cup holder in the van). The bowl was a Christmas present from my parents—it’s made by Heath Ceramics. I’m in love.

“Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.” —Kahlil Gibran

A New Favorite Picture Book

My friend Shruti told me about this book back in December and I just got around to buying it. It’s beautiful and so clever in its simplicity—and my kids love it. (Although Sophie, always the suspicious one, kept asking what would happen if we didn’t follow the directions and just turned the page.) It reminds me, a little, of The Monster At the End of this Book.

You can buy it here (or anywhere but I say here because it’s a favorite).

“A house without books is like a room without windows.” —Heinrich Mann