I still miss Joshua every day when he is at school. I suppose I have gotten used to it, to wondering what he is doing and who he is playing with, what books he is reading and hearing. Sometimes he shares a lot of vivid information from his day, which helps my imaginings.
But though I miss my big guy, though I sent him back to school reluctantly, I embrace the one on one time with Sam, which is flying by now that there is less than a year of it left. Time for him to be the main squeeze, time for his words to bubble out uninterrupted, corrected or echoed. He LOVES to help me, to dump flour into the mixer bowl, to touch the elastic and smooth bread dough with a finger, to toss clothes into the washer and hand up clothespins to hang them to dry.
The efficient side of me sometimes loses patience, sometimes forgets that I am a few fluttering calendar pages away from doing my day alone. My little helper will be about his own business, navigating the academic and social waters of kindergarten. He can't wait.
But I can. I can wait. I can answer a few more thousand questions. I can pause to get out the step stool and explain again what the yeast does, I can smile over the haphazardly set table and slow my steps to his. I can mark the passage of the day by snacktime, lunchtime, naptime. This Mommy will keep her little boy helper as long as she can.
Today it is the real deal. No sun-drenched room makeovers, no recipe from scratch, and no deep spiritual insights.
I've been painting the inside of our kitchen cabinets.
Some of you know that our kitchen makeover, in two parts, was fourteen months ago. We painted the really dark wood cabinets a soft cream, and ripped out mud-brown carpet. My sweetie put down a charcoal and cream checkerboard ceramic tile floor, and we painted the walls a soft, barely there pale green. Barn red accessories, red floral window treatments my precious sister made for our last house, and a breakfast room light fixture purchased 90% off at Lowe's. Other lighting changes, a new countertop and a new stovetop are years down the road budget-wise, so we called our frugal, DIY kitchen makeover finished.
And I closed the cabinet doors on their dark and sad interiors.
Until lately. When it started to nag at me. I mean, I cleaned them well when we moved in, and I clean them now, but there is a level of UGH in old wood cabinets in an old house that even Mrs. Meyers cannot banish. And the paint is here-- we had lots left of the custom mixed paint from the outside of the cabinets. So, a free project, without the usual money guilt. No reason to not dive in.
Except for the Total Kitchen Upheaval emptying the cabinets means. Except for the ancient Contac paper clinging to some of the shelves. (A pox on Contac paper, except of course for the very handy for kids' crafts clear Contac paper.) Except that this is a most unglamorous project, not decorative in the least and utilitarian to the extreme.
But I am going ahead with it. I suspect in my housewifely soul that once it is done, once it is a memory and all the Contac goo is gone from beneath my fingernails, I will enjoy those clean, bright, smooth cabinet insides nearly as much as I love my newly redone living room.
And such a mindless project gives me lots of time to listen to music and talk to Sam, or if he is otherwise occupied, think. So perhaps the next post WILL be more philosophical, as in how sin is like old Contac paper, coming away in maddeningly small shreds, or decorative, like artfully arranged boxes of mac and cheese. . . on the laundry room floor. . .
Perhaps you might find yourself with a free hour or so this weekend, and the desire to make something yummy for you and yours. On an overcast and unusually cool day in South Carolina, we are yearning toward fall, but it doesn't feel quite right yet to break out autumnal staples like apple and pumpkin pie. I am here to help.
Firstly, do you have a cookie scoop? I did not own one up until about three weeks ago, and now I am all about this handy little item. Mine is by Oneida and came from Wal Mart, for about $6. I have learned by unfortunate experience to spend the couple of extra dollars and choose the heavier kitchen tool when possible, so I bypassed the plastic, and brought this little guy home.
And so, Sam and I made Oatmeal Toffee Cookies from the recipe on the bag of Heath Baking Bits that had been lurking on my counter, tempting my husband for a few days. WOW! There nowhere I need to go that half a pound of butter can't take me! These cookies were delightful. Thanks to my new tool, there was no messing around with two teaspoons or a spoon and knife. All the cookies were the same size, so they baked evenly. And I scooped half the dough onto parchment and flash froze them and popped them into a freezer bag for later use.
The cookies themselves were great. The cinnamon was the perfect foil to offset the sweetness of the toffee and brown sugar. They are wonderful with a cup of coffee, and they won kid praise as after-school snack that day.
So for the weekend, I wish you warm baking smells in the kitchen and a crisp edge to the air in the morning, long evenings with those you love.
John painted again this weekend, dipping once more into the five gallon bucket of "Heavy Cream." The family room was settled back into order, so it was time to tear the living room apart. :) We emptied the books from the seven foot bookcase you cannot see in this picture so it could migrate across the room, we pulled out all the china from the dark red cabinet in the corner, because when we started, it was in the breakfast room. It traded places with my desk. We spun the sofa around, moved mirrors and the candle chandelier. Because, why JUST paint when you can redecorate?
I feel a little silly about how happy I am with the room now. I go in there just to look at it. As we put things back in place, or rather in their new places, we deep cleaned and polished and washed and dusted. I am much more of a fall cleaning person than spring. I may be sharing more pictures of this serene and shiny space. (Rather, than say, the top of my craft desk, which has not been seen in months. :)
Moving my desk to the breakfast room and putting the dark red china cupboard in our living/dining room was equal parts form and function. The desk I am talking about is not the computer desk, which is in the family room, but my writing one, where I pen cards and the occasional letter, and where I plan menus and manage coupons. So it made sense that it would be closer to the kitchen, where the food and cookbooks live. But I also wanted that symbol of busyness and planning out of the living and dining space, with its piles of paper and scribbled on calendar and clippings. Now this room is all about reading and listening to music and family dinners and board games and the moment we are in.
The breakfast room is about eat your cereal, don't be late, what do you have for homework, are granola bars on sale, do we have more toothpaste, and how much chicken broth do I need for that recipe?
Cross from tile to hardwood, and I wanted even the furnishings to say, take your time, have another helping, whose turn is it, okay, one more chapter. Or, because I don't live in a dreamworld people, one more light saber fight, one more round of hide and seek, one more game of tag. You're it!
We've always been in the position of furnishing our spaces mainly in hand me downs and thrift store finds and kind gifts, and have have long made peace with making peace with what we have, rather than envisioning the wonder of choosing every fabric and silhouette and detail. I don't mind a slipcover, or painting a piece or two. And with this comes a freedom I have come to appreciate. Without the pressure of having spent a lot on choosing things for a specific room or use, there is no guilt or worry in making our chairs and desks and tables migrate to serve the family. No sacred cows, no untouchable surfaces, and only things that are beloved because of the life that is being lived on and around them. I love to decorate, but if it doesn't work for busy boys and a husband a foot taller than I am and our modest budget, it doesn't work. And in this way, we are making a home I am falling more in love with all the time, mostly because I am crazy about these people with whom I share it.
Sweet indeed.
I really used to dislike baking. I am a self-taught cook, and baking, at first, was just not fun. Fun was slinging palmfuls of basil into pasta sauce, or serving up a satisfying bowl of chili at the end of the day, topped with golden shredded cheese.
But baking is chemistry. Teaspoons matter. Pinches and dashes matter. Precision and focus and attentiveness matter. And thankfully, as patience has come (somewhat and hard-won) with a bit of age, I have learned to bake. Now, I did not say anything about artfully iced cookies or cakes decked with sugar sculpted roses. But for a wholesome, simple loaf of whole wheat bread or a batch of lemon muffins, cinnamon rolls scenting the morning or a homey pound cake, I'm your girl.
I remember learning how to measure flour for baking. I was taught that if you dip the scoop into the flour, it is packed into the measure and you end up with too much flour in proportion to the fat and leavening and liquid in the recipe. But if you scoop the flour into your cup with a spoon, allowing air to remain incorporated in the flour, and gently scrape the measure level with the backside of a knife, you have the right amount. Your bread will rise. Your cake will be moist and not dry.
Our days are the same. Filled with too much, tight and dry as we can pack them, they become hard as doorstops, or closed hearts, or stumbling stones. There is no room to breathe, to expand, to rise, to show hospitality, to allow our agenda to be derailed by a child, by a need, by a Father. And it backfires. I really believe this. That the things we make of such days are not nourishing; they are as heavy as our over scheduled hearts.
So I am trying to fill these days with a light hand, scoop gently into them, and smooth the top. The unused flour, the undone task, the unexplored idea, the unread book, is not lost. It goes back into the bin. There are more days, more hours to come. There are pizza crusts and biscuits and breadsticks to be made for another meal. It is all good, it just doesn't all belong in the same batch.
A pause today to remember all who perished on September 11, 2001, both those who were attacked as they traveled or worked, and those who ran into the horror to assist them.
A moment to honor those who serve us still in our Armed Forces, law enforcement, and fire departments, who forgo safety and comfort to insure our own.
A prayer for those families who must share such a rending personal loss with the world, for whom this day is forever dark.
The quiet blue of a September sky will never be the same.
John and I celebrated twelve years of marriage this weekend in true Kemp fashion-- a little home improvement, a lot of time with the boys, some tasty food at home and out, and just being us. It was good. (I love you sweetie-- I am excited to begin another year with you!)
But all this rescuing and freshening started last week. I brilliantly wore my most comfortable white T shirt on spaghetti night. Just call me grace-- with my first (hearty) forkful little orange dots sprinkled my shirt, and despite Early Stain Intervention, they remained. Now at this time of year I could buy any number of white T's on clearance, but somehow I wanted to rescue this one, not have the answer found in the bottom of a two-handled plastic bag. So, now I am in LOVE with this swirly, feathery leaf from Jenny Hart , and I want to put it on everything.
And then this weekend, thanks to a generous anniversary gift, off we went to Lowe's and came home with paint for the family room and living room-- a five-gallon bucket of an Olympic color called Heavy Cream. Now on the family room walls, it is the color of really good vanilla ice cream. Next weekend we will paint the living room and we have color plans for the hall and bathrooms for later. The family room is so pretty-- I would not have thought that a little color change and the sheen of satin finish could make such a difference. We are going much more subtle with all colors in this house than ever before, and loving the result-- restful and multi-seasonal.
In the course of painting the family room, it got a top-to bottom fall cleaning-- so nice-- rug beaten, surfaces deeply cleaned, and today, inspired by Meredith, the sofa and chair cushion covers are being washed and the cushions themselves aired in the hot sunshine. (See Meredith's post to view the color my cushion washing water was. ) And the same will happen with the living room next weekend. And it is deeply satisfying to me.
Can you tell-- the air was crisp this morning-- I am steaming ahead toward Fall!
Good morning! Where does this day find you? Where are you as you read these words? Obviously it is late October in this Carolina heart-- I continue to share images from last Autumn-- a quiet defiance to a predicted 93 degrees today.
I am feeling grateful. Just that, really. A glance back over my shoulder to say that good things are happening, that some worries and anxieties have been smoothed and soothed by grace and provision.
--Joshua is loving first grade. Bounds out the door to school, leaps off the bus daily full of news and excitement. "Mommy, Mrs. R is the coolest teacher EVER!" He is at ease and confident, and his teacher uses a project-based learning approach to weave the disciplines they are studying together, an atmosphere in which he is thriving. We are working with him an a "Who am I?" project, making a time line of his life and sharing pictures and stories. I was so anxious about this year, and every new day God is assuring me that He knows Joshua and cares for his heart, even more than this mommy.
--Sam did not have the adjustment period I feared, with brother away at school all day. As we get into fall, he and I are going to do a little more structured learning, but for now we are just enjoying reading and playing and reuniting with his brother at the bus stop.
--I'm feeling thankful for our church's Wednesday night time-- with fellowship, learning and Scripture memory for the kids, and an adult Bible study for us on the Gospel of Matthew. Last night, as Pastor Mark thanked God that He "redeemed us by His Providence," that one phrase fed my spirit so much. God does redeem by His Providence-- us, our plans, our worries-- He holds and transforms-- not always into what we desire or imagine, but always something better, more whole, more true.
--I am always cared for so tenderly by my sweet husband. John reminds me everyday that this mom gig is challenging, and that he respects both that I do it, and how I do it. He is my very tall cheering section.
--I have lots of creative goodies here to play with when I have bits of time to do so. After letting pictures to order pile up for an embarrassing amount of time, (do as I say, not as I do: order pictures regularly), I got a box full of prints from MPIX last week. Pages and pages for scrapbooks are filling my imagination. And I have a couple of other projects in mind as well. I want to try my hand at these . And I have the materials to make two of these, from my father's old pocket watches.
--Carrie Newcomer's music, rediscovered this summer, has become an almost daily soundtrack.
--I'm happy about the meals I put away in the freezer, that give me the gift of time during these busy, start up days. It is good to learn again that organization can actually create flexibility and graciousness later, by anticipating future needs and schedules.
-- All the really wonderful people who write for children, both the ones who write "literature" and those who pen the fun, laugh-out-loud books, give a gift to us parents. A balanced reading diet of both is producing in Joshua, and planting in Sam, both an appreciation for and delight in books. Seeing this in action has given me the grace to intersperse my own more serious, focused reading with lighter fare. Takes me right back to childhood days, legs flung over the arm of an old green chair, chapters and hours flying.
What's on your list?
It really did change on Saturday, people. On Saturday morning there was the smallest note of coolness in the breeze. And this morning, I did not break a sweat as I hung out the laundry. Of course, it is supposed to get to 94 today. But the shift is happening. I love that this year, I didn't miss it.
We had a little anniversary fun over the weekend-- a wonderful dinner with my sister and brother-in-law and the treat of a night away while the boys were with Grandma and Pop pop. I can't believe we are celebrating twelve years-- inside I still feel like that twenty-three year old bride!
Perhaps it seems inside out, but I love that we began our life together at the start of my favorite season. Though nature wanes in autumn, fall has never lost the back to school feeling for me, the quickening of creative and physical energy, even as we draw the home circle in a little tighter, as we tuck in loose ends, trade the grill for long-roasted oven meals. Perhaps I feel my energies are concentrated, my focus is tighter and clearer.
Or maybe I just really REALLY like the little lights I bought this weekend, that look like candy corn.
Adding to this sense of well-being is the quiet delight of reading a wonderful book. I checked out Hannah Coulter, sent on a quest for Wendell Berry fiction by the wonderful Molly. It has proven to be a soul-feeding book, more deeply true, somehow, than non-fiction. Ending each chapter feels like the end of a good meal, when you use the last crust of bread to soak up the last bit of sauce, not wanting to miss one drop.
I know these times of peace are a blessing to any family, these weeks when Joshua can't wait to get to his wonderful first grade class, these golden afternoons of snacks and schoolwork, long evenings when we are all here. The quiet mornings home with Sam, nights of deep sleep for all of us. Wishing you all this and more, swinging as we are between summer and fall, everywhere a bountiful harvest.
