Doll clothes wash day

Yep, they're busy, busy little mommies to their dollies. 

Both girls insisted that the pretend washing machine would not get the dolly clothes clean enough.

So I sent them outside with a wash board and a bucket and they had a great time.

 I should put them in charge of all the household laundry.

on ponytails

In February I donated my hair to locks of love.  Many people I know do this on a regular basis; they grow their hair until it's the required ten inches long and then cut it off.  For me though, it was a little more complicated.

I began growing my hair out over five years ago.  I was living in Latvia at the time and after one particularly traumatic haircut I swore I wouldn't cut it again, there anyway.  The hairdresser only spoke Russian and this impeded our ability to communicate.   

It slowly grew out, though, eventually grew from shoulder-length to long to "whoa, your hair is really long."  And I kept it that way for a good two years. 

It seems obvious to say, but my hair was an extension of myself.  Bee loved to style my hair with her brightly colored clips and barrettes.  I would fidget with my ponytail when I was bored or nervous.  As a baby, Cheeks would twirl my hair while I nursed her, tangling her fat baby-starfish fingers in my hair until we were again connected to each other. 

On the other hand, though, my hair was a pain to wash, nearly always piled up on top of my head in a messy bun.  Most of the women in my profession have short hair, or at least a hairstyle that is professionally cut.   I really liked the idea of donating my hair to someone who had lost theirs.

But the truth is, my motive in cutting my hair was hardly altrustic.  In February, I found out that a member of my family, someone who I love very very much, was seriously ill.  The extent of the illness came as a complete shock and I was powerless to do anything to help this person recover.  I was angry that this could happen to my family.  I just wished that I could do something, anything, to make things right again.  And even though there wasn't much of a logical connection I decided that cutting my hair would somehow help.  Help what exactly, I'm not quite sure.

So, without thinking too hard about my course of action, I booked an appointment.  My hairdresser here in the United States is someone I have known a long time. She was very skeptical of my plan but was willing to do it.  She gathered my hair into a long ponytail and asked me at least five times if I was sure.  I was the only person in the salon.  The scritch of her scissors slicing through my hair seemed to echo throughout the room. 

When she was done, she handed me my hair and I unceremoniously shoved it into a manila envelope, without looking.  If I had looked I would have cried.  Not out of vanity but because of everything else.  And okay, maybe vanity too. 

I took a deep breaths while the hairdresser snipped and styled and I was left with a short bouncy cut which I reassured her that I just loved. And I told everyone that I loved my new short hair even though I secretly didn't.  My poor husband returned home from a business trip to the Middle East and was quite shocked to find his wife so changed. 

But the thing about hair is that it grows.   My family member is no longer sick and I say prayers every day that this person continues to heal.  And today, six months later,  I can pull it back into a serviceable ponytail.  And as I was fiddling with it in class today, I realized I can even honestly say that I like my hair again.

And that is what I think about when I think about ponytails.

the best laid tomato plants

You know, I always plant my garden with the very best of intentions.  I weed and water faithfully for a good two weeks until life intervenes.  Then I kind of forget to water.  Or I go out to water, but it's 110 degrees, gotta love D.C. summers, and I stand there listlessly with the hose for less than five minutes before retreating indoors. 

Or like this weekend, when I bought a lovely pot of thyme at the farmer's market but then forgot to plant it for a few days.  It's a little crispy on the edges now, and I'm not sure that it's going to recover. I may have planted dried thyme.

My garden grows in spite of my less-than-stellar efforts.  This year, however, it seems to be growing to spite me. 

The blackberry bush is angrily putting out tendrils in every direction, but is not interested in growing any juicy fruit for pies.  Did you know that blackberry leaves look a lot like poison ivy?  My mother and I had a long email correspondence on this subject at the beginning of the season.  The blackberry bush seems to know this though, and has produced hundreds of luxuriant green leaves guaranteed to keep and visitor to my backyard away from that corner of the garden. 

In addition to the blackberry busy, there are eggplants.  I take no responsibility for the eggplants because they were entirely my husband's idea.  The eggplants are right next to the blackberry bush and unfortunately do not get much more than 2-3 hours of sun per day.  In other words, not quite enough...  However, although two have withered, one industrious eggplant is using every ounce of its daily allotment sunlight to grow one eggplant.  I'm sure when it's finished it will be delicious. 

The tomatoes are doing a bit better, comparatively, but the problem there is the squirrels have already auctioned off all the green tomatoes to the highest squirrel bidder.  I hope I am able to wrench a few away from their greedy paws. 

The basil is great.  It just grows and grows and doesn't really mind what I do, or don't do.  I have a high regard for the basil. All I have to do is pinch the flowers off once a week.  That's the kind of gardening I can handle. 

Hanging out with the basil are the jalapeno peppers.  These are my husband's babies and they have produced dozens of spicy peppers.  He's very happy about this, and the rest of us, well, we're happy for him. 

There has been one definite success this year, the moon flowers.  They started out as a tiny transplant, a gift to the girls from my father in law and they have been phenomenal. I propped a small wooden trellis against the garden wall and they have just climbed right up.  No flowers yet, but we're checking for them every few days.

So this year is marked by few growing successes, but we sure are enjoying the fresh basil on our pizza.

Teessentials

Up until several years ago, I rarely drank tea. But sometime after having Abby, not exactly sure when but I think it was during the sleep deprived years, I picked up the habit.  I love my Samova teapot.  Samova is a German tea company and my sister gave me their clever teapot several years ago. The pot would be bereft without Harney and Sons tea inside.  Their hot cinnamon spice tea is delicious and dangerously addictive. There is just something so civilized about starting the day with a warm cup of tea--summer or winter.

Fearless

Although it's hard to tell from this picture, I swear that this climbing feature was at least 20 feet high.  At least it seemed that high to me when Miss Cheeks zoomed up to the top and took off running toward the slide. She leaps and laughs in the face of playground injuries.  I can only gather that her acrobatics stem, in part, from a desire to keep up with her big sister.

Whenever I go to the playground with the girls, I try to make a point of stepping back and letting them play.  It's too easy to hover. 

Obviously, when there is a real potential for danger we have the responsibility to be there for our children, but I do believe that an important part of good parenting means allowing your kids to explore and test their limits.  Scraped knees and bumped heads are the inevitable collateral damage. 

And,  if I'm being honest, that climbing feature was maybe only five feet high.  And I was right there.. But you know what Cheeks did after she flung herself down the nearest slide? She climbed it again.  And again.

Putter

I'm currently in training for five weeks and the best part about this time is the extra 30 minutes in the morning. The girls are very much creatures of habit and it's better for all concerned to keep them in their regular daycare drop off routine.  Since I don't have to be in class until 9 am, I can take them to school and come back to the house and putter around--all by myself. 

I brew a pot of tea, schlep the laundry in whatever direction it's headed that particular day (up to fold, down to wash), spend a few minutes tidying up the girls' room, read the news.  The daily stress of rushing out the door has been paused. Time to oneself is glorious.

Countdown to kindergarten

I really can't get over the fact that Miss Bee will be heading off to Kindergarten in just a few weeks.  I mean, really, it was just about five days ago that I brought her home from the hospital, all wrinkled and swaddled.  She fit into the crook of my arm.  (If there is one word I want to steal from British English, using "fitted" instead of "fit"  is the one, but since it sounds a bit pretentious on this side of the Atlantic I'll restrain myself.) 

Now, that little baby is an amazing big sister who loves ballet, art projects and reading.  As in reading books.  I suppose that reading might be an indication that she is ready for school...but, like I said, I'm in denial.

Last night, we my adorable three year old niece spent the night.  Bee herded her cousin and sister around the house like a mother hen with two slightly unruly chicks. Several times I had to remind her "you're not the Mommy" as she reprimanded them for some small toddler infraction.  

We were out driving in the car today and Bee spent the ride asking her father about what makes the car go, about pressing the brake and the accelerator and all that.  So I suppose next month she'll have to learn how to drive. 

My little sister is having a baby, and not just any baby, a beautiful (I'm sure of this) little girl.  She is ironing tiny baby clothes and folding blankets and preparing the nursery and I'm jealous.  Time seems to go by so slowly when you're pregnant, especially in the final waddling slightly miserable months.  But once you bring that baby home time just flies by.