goods and heroes

sally

My mom passed away last Tuesday, at about 8:30 in the morning with my brother Richard and my sister Jen at her side.

I might post more thoughts and images about this later, or maybe not. But just know that I think my mom's passing was just as it should be and we of the Tawse clan have been surrounded by tremendous support and kindness.

One thing I would like to share. I am so thankful that in the late afternoon on Tuesday when we were collectively full of so many different emotions and energy levels and just an awkward jumble of thoughts and feelings, we all headed to the Pueblo Nature Center on the Arkansas River.  And we just started throwing rocks in the water. My Mom told me about 15 years ago when we were up at the cabin in Beulah that when she was frustrated or scared or really ticked off, she'd go find some rocks and just toss them over and over. If she threw enough she might start thinking about the rocks and not the other thing on her mind. So we went to the river and we tossed rocks. We chucked them. We held them in our palms. We even smelled them (they smelled salty). We didn't say much. But then we started skipping them and we even had a bit of fun, trying to see who could get the most skips and find the flattest, rock for skipping. (I think my niece Em and my dad tied at seven.)

I am so glad we did. And I think my Mom, wherever she is, would be glad too.

little guy, big day

Things are definitely ramping up around here and I must say, I have been running from place to place in a frenzied, frazzled fashion that I don't like much. But yesterday for a few hours all the noise and bustle and deadlines and projects got happily plopped on a crowded back burner for a most wonderful reason: Sam graduated from Kindergarten.

There were actually two ceremonies, one in the morning in the Ginkgo classroom, which he has been in for three years (with Amy, an outstanding, magical teacher) and then one after lunch for his Extended Day classroom, which was the afternoon class consisting of only 5-6 year-olds or "third-years" as Sam called them.

So of course, that meant I cried twice.

 

And so, we now have the summer to play and explore and travel and be outside and try new things. Fall and first grade are a fuzzy silhouette on the horizon.

soap on a rope (with hope)

I don't think I have ever posted about The Enterprising Kitchen before and I am sort of surprised with myself, because it is one of my favorite non-profits here in Chicago. I'll try and sum its mission up: it works with women who are in need of a wide variety of professional skills and social services by providing employment opportunities . . . by having these women make, mix, package and even market artisanal bath and beauty products. And I have always been smitten by "TEK" products because they look good, they smell delicious and by their very nature carry a good feeling along with them. But most importantly, I am happy, actually thrilled, to say that I really like their products. We've been using their liquid handsoap at home for years now and my mother is alway happy when I send some of their bar soaps in a gift, and my mother is a very persnickety soap and smells person. If it smells too sweet or artificial, she'll give it the evil eye before you can blink.

So if you live in Chicago, TEK is having a "Mother's Day Sale" on May 3rd (a week and one day before Dia de los Mamas).  Their warehouse/facility is pretty inspiring--its in the Ravenswood industrial corridor and open and full of light. If you go, you'll want to buy a few lovely things and it won't set you back much money at all. Plus, you actually get to meet quite a few of the women who make the products. I mean, what's not to like? Even if you can't go or don't live in Chicago, you can always check out their website.

Here's a shot of one of their most popular items which was in itself is something of a fluke. The women were looking for a way to use up all the odds and ends from cutting their soaps and someone came up with the idea if stringing them up like the old "Soap on a Rope." I think I would be happy to hang one in my kitchen window just for the color and scents alone. Might be a nice gift for myself this Mother's Day!

hello world!

A very quick post as I did want to update everyone (and thank you for the sweet calls and e-mails!) Our little early arrival guy Ben (Benjamin Isaac Grossman is his full and proper name) is doing quite well. He is still in the hospital but as of today he is breathing on his own, he is off the antibiotics and he has been slurping down a cocktail of mama's milk and formula. I spent much of the day going back and forth to the neonatal care area where he is (I was discharged yesterday) and I was able to nurse him, feed him by bottle, burp him and just kiss and cuddle and smell him and play with his toes and rub his delicious nose and cup his beautiful little dark-haired head in my hand. It was everything I've been waiting for since he was born in the wee hours on Sunday.

It sounds cliche as all get out but it is very hard to believe it's been just four days since he arrived--it all feels so rich and yet slow and not quite real. Every time I enter the NICU doors and wash my hands at the big sink and get ready to walk back to where his clear plastic isolette is, I feel odd and lucky and anxious and bewildered and full of hope and even a bit of motherly pride. And of course, a jumble of other fleeting emotions. But mostly I am just thrilled to be able to be there with him. I am also humbled and a teeny bit muddled by simply just holding him--he's small and it's not easy to handle such a delicate person who has monitors with tiny wires stuck to his thin chest and long, papery looking feet. And even though I breast fed Sam easily for many, many moons, it's not like riding a bicycle when it comes to this second baby. It feels more like trying to put an oversized milkshake straw in a beautiful hummingbird's beak. (How's that for a forced analogy? Sorry, the creative part of my language brain isn't within reach tonight.)

Anyhow, Ben had a little spike of jaundice today and so he's had to be under the lights and that might prolong his stay until Saturday or Sunday, but we will find out more tomorrow.

For now, here's a shot of him from Tuesday . . . it might be a tad dark but I hope you can get a sense of his face. I think he's lovely!

a little hero amongst big changes

Do you remember your first day of school ever? I don't, although I do remember my "Tiny Tots" preschool fondly as a place of seemingly endless swimming and snacking and happily napping on army cots in a cool, dark room. Funny, I don't remember any of the teachers at all, just the activities.

Well, Sam had his first day of school at his new school last Tuesday. This school is significantly different than his last experience in that his old cooperative nursery school was basically one room in a church with other three year-olds. It was two and a half hours, two days a week. Rogers Park Montessori, his new school, is in a brand-spanking new building and it is both physically large and inhabited by 2 to 13 year-old kids. And Sam will be attending five days a week, at least five hours a day, sometimes more.

Sam took the transition on the very first day without much outward emotion--he located his locker, slipped on his "indoor shoes," pecked us both on the cheek and walked right into the classroom without looking back. (I waited for him to look back, but he didn't. Yes, I was the slightly quivering, hovering mother.) And that afternoon I asked him rapid fire questions about his first day and his teacher and his new classmates, and he just shrugged them off breezily, only commenting that he didn't like the lunch so much because there were peas in the macaroni and cheese and that the playground with the cool climbing wall is only for elementary kids. I kept on asking more questions until Ted reminded me gently to cool it. So I did. I guess I've officially entered the phase where I want more info from my kid than he wants to share. I was thinking that would start in say, seventh grade.

Oh, let me back up. Here's a picture of Sam on his first day.

(When we were little, my mother always took pictures of us on the first day of school. There is a rocking series of photos of me and my sisters and brother, year after year, standing in the back yard in Fresno, usually kneeling by some plant my mother want to incude for color. Our hair is actually combed and we always have new outfits on. We all had freckles back then. I am glad she kept up the ritual.)

Sam wasn't thrilled about having his picture taken, especially on the steps, for some reason. I guess when you're being taken to a big, new school you had no voice in selecting, the least you can do is protest where your photo is going to be taken. He did brighten up when he was able to get it taken by a large mushroom growing in the grass. (And then he proceeded to stomp on the mushroom with a wicked laugh. Ahem.)

So anyway, Sam quietly soared through the week, offering more information and positive tidbits as the week progressed. ("I sit at table four." "We have a hamster." "I liked the watermelon at lunch.") But on Thursday morning, as I snuggled with him while he was just waking up, he whispered into my neck, "Mom, will things stay exactly the same always?"  I am pretty sure my gulp was audible as I tried to think of the best answer. I won't recount it here, because as per usual, it was a rather long one, but the question itself reminded me that our little guy is completely aware that there have been a whole lotta changes going around here lately. And in an odd way, that makes me feel better than when he's  acting all tough and nonchalant.

Tomorrow is Monday and we start another week . . .

note to self

I really didn't think I was going to blog ever or at all about the work I do. But it sort of makes sense that this part of my life might seep in here and there, seeing how it's what I do 40-50 hours a week. Monday through Friday I actually "see" more of my work than I do my husband or child. (Not a fact I am thrilled with, that's for sure!)

Anyhow, I went to a colleague's desk this morning first thing to grab some magnifying lenses for an upcoming workshop and she wasn't at her desk, but there, simply taped to the computer monitor for everyone and all to see was this scrap of paper:

And you know, right in that moment, standing in her cube, I just fell in love with her a little bit. I love the honesty, the no b.s. (she's from Wisconsin if that helps explain anything) and yet the quiet humor in it. And other than the "Get a Dog" part of it, it could easily be stuck to my computer monitor. 

ed emberly

Have you heard of Ed Emberly before? It's such a great name, it rolls off the tongue so happily. I don't recall him by name, but after scoring this book at the thrift store ( for a whopping 37.5 cents as part of my Monday "half price" haul from Unique Thrift) I was sucked back like some kind of 70s time travel machine. My brother must have had this book or at least, one of Ed Emberly's books because I saw the cover and was completely zinging with vague but positive early memories.

Anyhow, here's the cover. I love it! Ed Emberly's Drawing Book: Make a World. Right on! We need to.

This was published in 1972, but he had 7 other books under his playful belt when this was published, including The Wing on a Flea and The Parade Book. My mother and my friend Taylor (who both love a parade!) want to know what's going on in that book.

This Make a World (can I remake ours right now, because I'd like to) theme translates to page after page of glorious and tiny (teeny!) little tutorials on how to draw a car or a coffee pot, with everything from volcanoes to elephants falling somewhere in between. It's really a good life lesson. You start supremely basic with a square or a circle or a triangle, and you build from there, one teeny step at a time.

Here are a few close-ups. Grass, Explosions and Storm Clouds. I love Grass.

Ahoy, matey, this here one's for Sam. What a great combo: the mouse balloon and the cannon and the skull and crossbone Pirate action. The Brit flag and Maple Leaf (Oh, Canada!) have no symbolic relativity for him just yet. But we have British friends (hello, Sarah, in Tuscaloosa! and J. Brian, lapsed Canadian in Bethlehem, NH!) so we will teach Sam the importance of these flags. Or maybe we'll just hang out with our friends.

I am loving the Skeleton, Superperson, Elf  tutorial . . .  and you could be a clown, or simply clown feet.

I did a Google on Ed Emberly and came up somewhat empty-handed. Although I learned in an odd "Dude, we're huge in Japan," scenario (via Boing Boing, thanks!)  that he is in fact, so big in Japan that  modern designers are making such playful things as kitchen clocks, packing tape and plastic bowls with his gleeful little scribbles (blown up, big time).

Check this out. I want an orange spider clock.

Here's a fuzzy shot of the product line. I hope Ed (who is still alive) knows it exists, I mean, I hope he's getting his props and his royalties. He has a website, but it's sort of not active. So check back again another time, no? And go draw a world. A Happy Ed Emberly kind of world.

a hero, a cape and a crafty link

I'm keeping this (well, not really) brief as it's women's figure skating finals tonight and so much more importantly, I'm keeping an ear towards Sam's room--he was diagnosed somewhat hurriedly and casually today (after waiting an hour and a half to be seen) with having "walking pneumonia--the kiddie kind." Doesn't it sort of sound plucky? It isn't, but he's being a super trooper even though it sucks and he's hacking so emphatically. This is how the doc put it, "He's crackly, all over his lungs, not just in one spot."  (Which means infected in a terribly roundabout kind of way.) It sort of sordidly reminded me of when I last had a massage and the therapist was working on my back and she said, "It's like a bag of potato chips back here, just crackling all over the place." Hey, I can handle my knotted up potato chip back and being an exremely literal person, visualize the plastic thin bag of fragile chips crumpling and making noise, but please don't describe my son's lungs in terms I usually save for pork rinds. But fear not, he's on antibiotics. The killer pink bubble gum flavor kind.

Sam really is my hero for the week. He was so insanely patient in both the waiting room and the examining room--he was in the Nobel category of toddlers trapped in clean but completely non-stimulating waiting rooms. ("No pricks, Mommy?" "No sweetie, no pricks." This is, of course, referring to shots, not the doctors who leave you and your coughing child cooling your heels in some tiny examining room.) I must be fair to the overall practice, it's a new space for them and I think they're freako afraid of germs and so I assume they have decided to not have anything that little people can drool, sneeze, cough or chew on. They did have an aquarium with blue and yellow fish.

Also, I have to 'fess up and tell you that other than a sippy cup and an extra change of underwear and pants, I had nothing at all on my person to make Sam's waiting room experience any more fun or bearable or even thoughtful in any way. I had no toys, no books and most importantly, no snacks. "Not even way, way, way down deep in your backpack, Mommy?" No, nope. Negativo. And Sam endured it all, with the help of a dog-eared book, some schmaltzy Disney "Princess" themed, poorly written tale of Cinderella entering a cake-baking contest, which was in the examining room.

So here's a shot of Sam, from last week, in his latest favorite "cape."

And so here's a link that is somewhat haphazardly related to the cape (but not the cough): Hilary, the amazing force behind the blog weewonderfuls has launched a new blog all about THRIFTING and the crafting you can do with the stuff you score! So, if you're like me and can't find as much time as you'd like to actually do it, you can read it and live vicariously (it's like reading food magazines and just imagining you're making that fabulous dish, no?)  Anyhow, to tie all these crazy loose ends together--I found Sam's "cape" pictured above at the Village Thrift on Roscoe for sixty cents a while back. It's a map scarf, there's a whole genre of these, but I'll have to research this some other night. But know that it's Arkansas--the Wonder State. Hooray, for wonder. Never lose the wonder!

And so, good night and good luck to all of us. And no matter where you're going, always pack snacks.

apron capers

The other day Sam said to me as he was pulling his pilled-up, overworn, much-loved black (and unfortunately polyester) cape over his head, "You know, Mom, you can turn an apron into a cape." Just like that. Out of the mouths of babes. As if I'd been fretting over my lack of cape action/options or perhaps wondering about ways to creatively multi-task my aprons. Anyhow. He's right. You can.

For a few seconds I felt sort of jaunty and bordering on super. Despite of the fact that I was in my bathroom in soggy-bottom long johns and that it's freezing, literally. (The midwest version of superhero tights? Uh, I don't think so.) But Sam's right on. You can turn just about anything into a cape. You just need to go with it.

candy hero

Oh, how I love small, molded chocolates, especially those that are unique or never before seen shapes. In my quests to find fun wee chocolates for party favors and place settings, I have discovered ginger-infused Buddhas, raspberry-filled lions, tigers and monkeys and miniature VW beetles and gnomes.

But small, molded, neon-colored barley candy? Not only did I not know it existed, I certainly didn't know it had been around since the 1700s. A couple of weeks ago while looking for Chinese New Year favor ideas I stumbled across Dorothy Timberlake Candies out of Madison, NH.

Could it be any more Candyland-ish than to get to sip from an exquisite tiny tea cup and then . . . eat it? (Or am I thinking Willy Wonka?)

 

And let's enjoy the seaside vicariously.  Love the lobsters but the seashells and seahorses (depsite the fuzzy image) are super pretty as well.

And in anticipation of spring, here's a bunch of butterflies.