We are moving in 3 days.

We are heading to Omaha on Monday. Though Smoochy will come back for the pack-out, the kids and I will not. It is so hard to believe, as I look around my house, that a short time from now all this stuff will be packed in boxes... and that I won't have to do any of it. Thank God, because otherwise I'd be in a panic. I'd like to be a little more organized than I am. But the beauty is that the movers will pack it all just as it is. If there is one shoe of a pair in the living room, than that shoe will be in a box marked living room along with my pictures and the remote control. If the other shoe of the same pair is left in the kitchen I'll probably find it in a box with the blender. I'll just have to sort it all out when we unpack. No problem.

Georgia:
"What do you mean all our stuff will be in boxes? But, not Blanket, right Mom? I NEED Blanket!"

Normy:
"Relax, Peaches, it's just another move. I'm sure the movers will remember to pack you stupid Blanket. Probably anyway. Don't be such a baby."

Georgia:
"No! I am never going to put Blanket down ever. Never. Ever. This is my Blanket! She's coming with ME!"

(Grandma, it's official, she has a Lovey.
Made with the Christmas yarn form Aunt Cathy.)

What a difference a day makes.

Well, maybe not that much difference.

Memorial Weekend

Smoochy's Mom and her family came for a visit for Memorial Day Weekend. We took the train into Chicago on Sunday and checked out the Navy Pier. I didn't take too many pictures, as we were all too busy having fun, and enjoying cocktails... but here are a few shots of us heading to our destination.

Uncle Patrick & Normy

Aunt B and Friend Emily

Normy was beyond excited about the train.

Tim, Mom, Pat and Georgia

Obviously Too Young For Markers.

Boy, was she upset when I finally took them from her.
Sorry Georgia, we'll try again in six months.

Mini-Me

These days she wants to be doing exactly what I'm doing. She wants to wear my clothes and read my books. It is so darling. I am beyond touched by it. And I know it is so fleeting. Soon, everything I do or say will be met with a roll of the eyes. She is destined to think I am a total dork. And at least a decade of her life (if not much more) will be spent trying to define herself as everything opposite to boring old out-dated mom. Isn't that the way of it? But, for now I am so cool to her. She tries to dance just like me when a fun song is playing. She flails her arms and spins in circles; not a bad impersonation really. I hear her repeat what I say in tone if not in actual words. I always see her watching me so closely. There is a lot to live up to in that little gaze.

Sew, I made us some matching pj-pants! It was nearly impossible to get a good picture of us without a tripod; these are the best out of a dozens crap pictures.




But, I'm not the only one with a mini-me. Not too long ago, I heard the unmistakable sound of Normy getting into something... probably trouble. I came down stairs to find this! He was clomping all over the house pretending to be daddy.

Smoochy however, opted out of the matching pajama pants.

Daily Bread

We have all been enjoying baking bread this week.

I've finally gotten up the courage to try the sponge technique, with great success! For those who don't know, a sponge is like a mini-ferment. You get some of the yeast, water, and flour started up to 24 hours before you mix the rest. It gives the bread an extra depth of flavor. It is exactly what has been missing from my previous attempts at bread.

Of course bread baking is exhausting for little helpers. All that kneading!

I set her up at the table with some Os, while I got lunch around and chatted on the phone. When I peaked over to check on her, this is what I found!

So precious.

All her hard work paid off though. This is the best bread I've ever made. It's rye with caraway seeds. My favorite!

On Doula-hood and Chickens

Well, I've had an epiphany.

Everything is coming together just right, and all signs point the same way.

• I'm moving back to Omaha.
• Smoochy will no longer be traveling much. (After October)
• Both kids are old enough.
• I am not pregnant, and can stay that way.
• I have a network of friends to support me.
• I am already involved with the birth community.

I am going to become doula.
I am going to make it happen in Omaha.

I have Smoochy's blessing and I am so excited I can hardly think of anything else right now.

I know many of you have been listening to me talk about moving back to Omaha and homesteading. The truth is, I still want to. And I think I can pursue both. Why can't I have a garden, chickens, and doula clients? OK, maybe I will wait on the chickens. (See Dad, I'm listening to you finally after all these years!) But, I do have to say I think I'd rather live within Omaha when it comes to my doula career. So maybe the hobby farm is out. In fact, today I returned my library books on chickens and picked up a few childbirth classic that I have some how managed to miss.

So, I have brushed up and updated my old doula website, and I hope to get back into posting regularly on my birth blog again soon.

Birth really is my first passion. I feel so electrified that after YEARS of it being the wrong time, the right time is almost here. To be honest, I had put birth on the back burner the past six months or so that we have been here in Ilinois. With Smoochy always training; knowing we'd move again soon; and with Georgia nursing it felt like I was never going to be able to be a doula. But, time passes and here I am. I am standing before a dream I have the power to make a reality.

It hit me yesterday while I was jogging. A couple of things were rolling around in my head. A friend of mine made a comment on a chat-board when I announced I was coming back to Omaha. She said that she wished I could have doulaed at her recent birth. That thought collied with the new blurb I recently wrote describing myself for the blog. I wrote that someday I wanted to be a doula when it fit my life better. Eureka! That time is NOW! (Well, coming soon anyway.)

I know you are going to want to go read my "about" now. but, I'm about to go change it again. so this is what I wrote:

"Have you ever thought to yourself: “Self, I’d like to learn how to ______.”? Well, that’s me. I am forever dreaming up something new to try. Sometimes I do it and sometimes I just keep dreaming about it. Other times, I buy a couple of how-to books, all the essentials to begin, then don’t follow through. I am the definitive jack-of-all-trades, master of none. I love to knit and to cook. I’m just learning how to sew. I want to start gardening… maybe next spring? And SOMEDAY when I grow up (and it fits in my life a little better) I’ll be a doula. My mom thinks I should be a writer… but this blog is about as much writing as I can squeeze in. Heck, I haven’t even managed a Christmas letter two years running. My two kids and my Smoochy take up most of my time, and are the main recipients of all my handmade stuff. My profile picture is how I want to see myself: with limitless potential."

I feel all lit up. Like a horse chomping at the bit. However, I know there is a lot that has to happen still... you know, like actually moving to Omaha. So, I'm tryig to stay focused on the present. And presently I am going to go read Childbirth Without Fear by Grant Dick-Read! Well, after I clean the kitchen.

I've been wondering...

Should I buy stock in Crayola?

Is letting Georgia learn to feed herself worth the mess?

Could she possibly look more darling in this dress?

Will Normy ever tire of stickers?

Can I convince the kids to eat soy-dogs to spare them from nitrates?

Should I have had him wash his hands first?

No question:
Damn good bread.

Are markers REALLY non-toxic?

Will Santa bring me new nesting bowls for Christmas?

Can the kids see Cars too many times?
(I had to do something to restrain them while I cleaned up all that glass!)

Will my friends in Omaha be excited when they find out that we'll be moving back to Nebraska this summer thanks to Smoochy's wonderful job?

You read me right people! We are coming back!!!

Learning the Hard Way

When I was in my twenties (I can say that now!) I was obsessed with owning a new VW Beetle. I wanted one so badly I could taste it. Maybe I wanted it so badly that I willed catastrophe to happen. ONE month before the FINAL PAYMENT was due on my ’95 Saturn coup; I was T-boned on Atlantic Boulevard in Jacksonville, FL. My little maroon Saturn was pushed up on two wheels. After a series of collisions it had been hit for the last time. The insurance company totaled it, much to my delight.

With two thousand dollars of insurance pay-out in my pocket I went shopping for a Beetle. I didn’t look at any other cars. Though I had never driven a stick shift before in my life, I had it in my head that I wanted a manual transmission. I rationalized that this would stretch my car-buying dollar, but the reality is, I just though stick shifts were far more COOL.

My best friend generously and patiently gave me a few driving lessons in her very fun manual GTI, but I never got very proficient that way. Essentially, when I showed up at the dealership to pick up my freshly detailed new-used Beetle, I was a virtual stick-shift virgin.

I managed to drive my lovely little car off the lot with minimal stalling. However, a combination of nerves and excitement got the best of me at the corner of Southside and Atlantic. I stalled. At the light. No one could get around me. A cacophony of horns and curse words filled the air. I was panicked and upset. I was sure some one was going to shoot me, as light after light cycled through and I still couldn’t get my beautiful white Beetle in gear. The cars behind me were backing up in a horrifically long line. It was a nightmare.

At LAST I managed to find the perfect balance of pressure between my right and left feet, and my little car lurched forward; much to the relief of everyone behind me in the thick of the evening commute. (Did I mention all this took place at the peak of rush-hour traffic?)

I was in tears, and frustrated with myself. I was feeling like a total failure and moron. How could I not master this simple mechanical process? So, I pulled over in the first good-sized parking lot I could find. I circled for HOURS going from a complete stop to first gear, second gear, then back to a stop. Over and over again I chanted in my mind, “first, second, stop… first, second, stop.” Heck, I was probably saying it out loud.

After countless laps around that parking lot, night had fallen, and I finally felt brave enough to venture back out on to the roads. I can’t tell you that I never stalled again, but I can tell you that it was never again took me through a whole cycle of a light to get it together!

I’ve been thinking about my humble beginnings as a stick shift driver a lot lately as I’ve been learning how to use my new sewing machine. The first couples of attempts with my sewing pedal were much like being stuck at that light at the corner of Southside and Atlantic, minus the hordes of angry commuters. And just like with my Beetle I tried to drive off the lot all by myself. Let's just say the first two drawstring bags I made probably aren’t going to get much use. After those two train wrecks, I did what I should have done first; sit at my machine with yards and yards of scrap fabric and just sew straight lines. I was back in the paring lot just getting it in gear.


It has been slow going, but after much practice and a couple of classes at my local Hobby Lobby I finally have completed my first project that I feel like showing off on the web…

I give you my tote bag!


I’m working on something else as well. So, from time to time, I'll be sharing the results of my great sewing adventure!

Morton Arboretum

Today's field trip was to the Morton Arboretum. Specifically the Children's Garden in the Morton Arboretum. Words are failing me on how to describe the Arboretum. Imagine every type of plant imaginable showcased in wonderful gardens and walking paths... with so much more. There is a plant clinic where you can come for advise on your diseased plants and other garden woes; a library devoted to botany and horticulture; and of course the children's garden. The arboretum is a plant lovers heaven. Our trip today barely skimmed the surface of all this wonderful place has to offer; and I desperately hope we get to go back again and again before our time here in Chicagoland is over.

Now on to the pictures of my kids having the best time of their whole week. They came home sopping wet from head to toe, and coated in mud. The Arboretum's website advises bringing a change of clothes for kids coming to play, as they are encouraged to get wet and muddy. I forgot the extra clothes and really regretted it. Oops. Next time I will be more prepared.

Before I could stop her, Georgia climbed all the way into this fountain.
Thus the fun with water began.

Lalacia Park

We visited Lombard's famed Lalacia Park this morning. It was glorious. The follow photos capture some of the high and low moments. Truly, the park is delightful and it was the biggest dose of Spring I have ever experienced. It was as though everything synonymous with springtime was made manifest with double potency and all concentrated just on these few acres. I feel as though the smell of the lilac came home in my hair. I read that this park was the crown jewel of Lombard's many beautiful parks. It surely is.

It was showering little white petals.

Taking a break.

Making friends.

Too much sun.

So sad to leave.