I heart greenheart

On a furtive gelato run last Sunday to Wicker Park's Cafe Gelato while our 3 year old was at her first drop-off party, we discovered the store greenheart. I'm in love! The store (in its own words)
"is Chicago’s premier eco-fair trade non-profit shop, carrying both fair trade and eco friendly products. Greenheart carries a variety of goods including recycled accessories and handbags, home goods, gourmet treats, cookbooks, glassware, jewelry, toys, personal care, organic cotton t-shirts and more. Greenheart believes consumers have the power to affect positive World change by supporting sustainable and fair business practices in their purchasing choices."

I didn't know all that walking in - what got me right off the bat were the beautiful hand sewn dresses, and the adorable children's clothes and toys, and the beautiful green water pitcher and glasses, and the...

Avi was fussing so I didn't get to try on everything I wanted, but we did walk out of the store with a floor rug made out of recycled something-or-other, that will take the place of the utilitarian plastic dropsheet I was planning to put under the girls' easel to keep the paint off our new carpet. It's completely washable, and very cool.

We made another gelato run tonight, this time with our neighbors. (About 2/3's of the way there - 45 minutes into the trip from Hyde Park to Wicker Park at 3pm on a Thursday - we started to question the rationale of dragging our friends all that way just for gelato.) But it was yummy! We followed it by another trip to greenheart, who was having their grand opening fiesta (amazing food by Zebda, great sangria, warm welcome), and walked out with more treasures.

a little green porcelain piggy bank for Nourit's first lesson in saving $$, (you have to invest money to make money, don't you?)

a new book by the creators of 'Mama, Do you love me?' - one of my favorite books - called 'Papa, do you love me?' Halfway through the book it reads, "Papa, what would you do if I was hot?" "We'd rest under a Greenheart tree."

a beautiful beaded bracelet that I chose for my sister, who doesn't read my blog, so won't know if I end up keeping it for myself

My friend walked out with a fantastic two-toned, woven purse. I could have added about 10 more things to my shopping basket, as well. Unfortunately, all the clothes in my size had disappeared off the racks, so we will have to make the trek back to Wicker Park in a couple weeks to get mama a new dress. And some gelato, too, of course.

To do, or not to do - that is the question

Last night I realized that today I would have an entire, unscheduled day ahead of me, with no work, no play-dates planned, no outside obligations - rien, nichts, nada. (I'm just double checking my Google calendar to make sure I didn't forget about something...) What a glorious prospect! Then, worry set in. (This is one of my character traits that drives my husband batty - the ability to turn every good and simple thing into a cause for worry.) What do I do with this precious commodity? I don't want to waste it. Do I take the girls and go to one of the myriad venues on my mental list of places to go when I have a full day off work? Suddenly, I can't think of anywhere I want to go alone with two little ones all day. By myself. With no backup. Hmmm...Our next door neighbors and built-in-playmates are all on vacation. Do I set up a playdate with one of the many people that I've been wanting to see, and just haven't had the time until now? (You know, the friend 5 blocks away who had her second baby a year ago, and I've already unwrapped the gift I bought for her to use for my own kid because I still haven't made it over and she's outgrown it?) I love playdates - sometimes for the simple reason that my children are occupied and I get to visit with a friend. At the same time, it means I'm not really spending time with my girls. Or do I stay home - STAY HOME! - and putter, try to make those kale chips I've been thinking about, wander to the garden and pick the remaining peas, hang out with my girls in the backyard - with not even a side-trip to the playground? Ding ding ding ding ding! We have a winner, folks!

The problem with this, though, (and here is where my husband is walking away from me and the conversation), is when I'm home, I see a mess. I see all the things that need to be fixed. Try as I might, I can't seem to ignore what needs to be done in the interest of just hanging out with the girls on the floor for uninterrupted hours of play. Even if I split my time, play a little - clean a little, the little ones seem to undo faster than I do, so it's basically a lost cause. (I'll have to figure this balance out, though, as I will soon be home full-time and responsible for both the cleanliness of our home, and the daily mental and emotional stimulation of our children.) There's something inside of me that feels the need to accomplish something tangible to justify my existence. (Not on a large scale, though, like committing to a career or anything. More along the lines of seeing that the dishes are done, or the floor is vacuumed.)

The other problem with staying home is my fear of missing out. I think that has to do with living in this wonderful city called Chicago, this city that has a crazy amount of fun things to do in the summer. I could visit Millenium Park regularly, drive to Garfield Park Conservatory, or the Chicago Botanic Gardens, or spend the day at any of the beaches along Lake Michigan. There are a half a dozen museums to visit, all within a 15 minute walk or drive. There are music, dance, soccer, art, you-name-it, classes for every age child. There is the lure of shopping downtown (even though the sales tax is insane), and going to Ghiradelli. There are at least two zoos within 20 miles. There are family friendly farmer's markets on any given day. There are so many playgrounds to try, unique neighborhoods to visit, and on and on. It's a far cry from what was available to us out in the small town where I grew up. I'm sure my mom wasn't worrying about whether to go to Binder Park Zoo or the Turkey Farm every day, because that's basically all there was for the entire year. And of course, those places were reserved for special visitors on special occasions. So we stayed home most days, and we weren't missing anything. But here, in Chicago, there's so much choice!

And therein lies my quandry. I'm not good with choices. I want it all. I want balance. I want to stay home with my kids and enjoy a long, drawn-out summer day, with no schedule, no train to catch, no laundry that must be done - with no worry that I'm not do-ing enough.

Not to do. That is the answer.

Collector's Pieces

Nourit came home after her dance class two weeks ago, ate a few mouthfuls of dinner, and promptly started to draw. She hates to color with crayons, and I've never seen her do anything except scribble on a piece of paper with pen, describing to me all the elaborate things she was drawing that looked nothing like, well, anything. But here she was, drawing a head, eyes, nose and mouth, legs and arms. (Okay, so the arms are where the ears would normally go, but they were still pretty good for starters!) On one or two, she actually drew two sections to each leg, very carefully keeping her lines straight. I had never seen her do this before, and neither had her dad. Maybe one of her babysitters taught her? I don't know, and it surprised me!

This was the first picture - see the burning eyes - very profound.

Since Michael is known to have drawn elaborate pictures of fire engines when he was 3, I was afraid she was inheriting my (lack of) artistic talent, but she may have a future in the artists' studio yet!

Grandparents, grandparents, and more grandparents!

While Mike was busy in Orkney rubbing elbows with Sir Peter Maxwell Davies and writing music feverishly, (or maybe writing feverish music?), we stayed put and had our own fun. First, Nanny and Papa crossed the bridge into the U.S. to come help me with the girls for a week. We were treated to live folk music in the livingroom and hot meals on the table every night. While I slaved away at work, the girls got to accompany Nanny and Papa to Starbucks every morning for yummy snacks. Unfortunately, we sent Papa home with pneumonia, which landed him in the hospital for an evening, and bed for a few more.

Two full, wonderful days alone with my girls (all play, no work!), and I was ready for Grandma to visit. She arrived armed with new dvd's and orange cake, and then took the girls to the park, to the museum, and out for walks so I could nap. On the hottest day, she convinced me to go buy a sprinkler, which was a hit in the backyard. All the neighbors came out to play when they heard Nourit and Avi shrieking in the water, which led to the inflation of the Bennett's HUGE pool, and another hour of fun for 7 kids in the backyard. Going back inside, I found Grandma just finishing a two-hour cleaning frenzy. God bless Grandparents!

We waved goodbye to grandma, and a few hours later met Mike at the airport. Nourit wanted to wear her special flowered dress, cupcake shoes, and butterfly ring to meet him. I think she has a crush on her daddy! (About those cupcake shoes...I was horrified when she latched onto them at Target, and I tried to talk her out of them. Now, I can see how special she feels when she wears them. They're not so horrible to me anymore...) The next morning, we piled into the car and drove to Kentucky for the first time to see Grandpa. We received a warm welcome, and had fun touring the area, splashing in the pool Grandpa bought just for the girls, and playing ball with the neighbor and his dog. Nourit asked if we could stay for five more weeks, and was sad to leave. It's good to have Grandparents!

Nourit's Second Dance Class

Normal parents keep track of children's 'firsts'. I'm too late for that. Here is a picture of Nourit before her second dance class, at the Hyde Park School of Dance. After trying two other dance classes that were a little too old for her, or had too little music, I think we finally found the right fit. The first day was almost our last, though. After waking Nourit from a nap to go, she screamed and cried, unwilling to go happily. But when we arrived, the excitement of her friend Zara rubbed off on her cute little leotarded and slippered self, and she was soon moving around the rehearsal hall with the teacher and about 15 other pink-clad preschoolers, to music played by a flesh and blood pianist.

I haven't seen anything as cute as that first day of creative movement class, with little girls all very seriously pretending to be animals and flowers and ballerinas. Unfortunately (or fortunately for the teacher!), the parents are now banned to the adjoining room, while the little 3 and 4 year olds leap and twirl autonomously for 30 minutes a week.

When asked what she did during her second class, Nourit replied dismissively, "Oh, I don't remember."

Us: "Did you dance like animals?"
Her: "No."
Us: "Did you spin and jump and twirl?"
Her: "No."
Us: "Was the teacher nice, and was everyone having fun?"
Her: "No."
Us: "Was the teacher horribly mean?"
Her: "Yes!" (with a grin.)
Us: "Were the kids all crying and everyone wanted to go home?"
Her: "Yes!" (more grinning.)
Us: "Did the piano player push over the piano, and did everyone stomp around?"
Her: "Yes!"

And so, I think it was a success, and that she will return willingly for the next few weeks. However, and yet again, I am just not ready for this little independent streak showing up before she is an actual teenager. She's not ready for a secret life, yet! (Or, at least I'm not ready...)

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Post Script - Week Three
Now weeks one, two AND three have successfully passed, and I told Nourit that next Tuesday would be her last dance class. "UNLESS, you want me to sign you up for next session," I said hopefully. "No," she said. "I'd rather stay home."

Well, I guess that means home is a nice place to be, right? Let's hope she still says that when she's 16!

Timing is Everything

Why do we continually get nervous about our lives and our futures? We keep experiencing God's provision for us, and yet there is still a feeling of uncertainty whenever things are about to change. I sort of think that's because God waits until the last possible moment to let us know how the next chapter in our life will begin. Time and again, we've waited for the answer, it doesn't come in time for me to be comfortable, but we step out in faith and voila, He answers and the stars align. (Figuratively, of course!)

His timing, though, is right on, not only for our life, but for everyone who intersects with us, it seems. Just when we needed a good babysitter (or two!), Jessica came into our lives, needing job. When our lives got crazy, her schedule lightened up, and she was there to help us the many last-minute times we needed an extra 'parent' this year. Now, she is leaving (sniff), graduating from college and heading out into an exciting new career. Amy (our other wonderful sitter) is leaving this week, too. What are we going to do for daycare? NOTHING! Because, in God's unique timing, we were hired as Resident Heads, and I will be able to stay home with the girls full-time. What about my job? It's coming to a natural end, with funding running out since the grant I manage was not renewed. Things are falling into place.


Another intersection, even though it seems small, just concluded seamlessly. We desperately needed help cleaning in the middle of the year, and one young woman needed to work while waiting for a real job in the architecture world. Just as we are getting to the point we can manage it on our own, she gets two job offers. Noone loses, everyone wins! (But this means I will be cleaning the toilet again. Okay, I guess I lose a little bit...)


So, slowly, or quickly, or however you want to look at it, we are checking some of the 'unknowns' off our list, moving them into the 'known' category.

My Shitty Monday Evening

I try not to swear too often, and usually reserve the 'S' word for stubbing my toe, or particularly bad news. But here I mean it in the literal sense - we had a very shitty evening last night.

I need to preface this by saying we have had a long, arduous journey getting our now 3 year old to poop regularly. As early as 6 months, she would wait 3 weeks to poop, but the doctor said she was fine. After a couple years, a lot of tears, and a few posts about it, we're finally at the point where she goes semi-regularly, sans suppository. We're not neglectful parents. We feed her so much fiber, and so little animal, that I cannot understand why it's turned out this way. She starts the day with ground-up flaxseed in her yogurt, we force her to chug prune juice, and we are a die-hard dried fruit eating family. It doesn't add up.

Anyway, last night around dinner time (of black beans and sweet potato, no less), I noticed she was acting funny, doing her little dance, and saying her tummy hurt. No amount of cajoling would get her to sit on the potty. That's when I had to put her there by force. Meanwhile, Avi (who has nooooo problem pooping 2-3 times a day), is stuck in her highchair, screaming like a banshee, and emptying the contents of her bowl on her head. Screams are coming from Nourit as I force a suppository up her bum (oh, the joys of motherhood), and from Avi as I'm neglecting her. Finally, Nourit poops, we flush and wash, and she assumes the couch potato position while I put in an opera for her to watch. (Yes, we bribe our kids with opera dvds.)

Back to Avi, to wash off all the bean crud from her hands and head, then back to Nourit who is still looking like she's in pain (and it's not from the Queen of the Night's high notes.) Back to the potty, tears streaming down her little 3 year old face (and nearly on mine.) Another HUGE poop, which, incidentally, is too big to flush down and comes back up. I flush a second time.

At this point, I decide to dunk these children in a warm, calming bubble bath, which seems to do the trick. Halfway through, Avi looks like she could do her duty, so I carry her, dripping, over to Nourit's potty seat. We are definitely not potty training her at this age, but I know she has fun when she gets to walk in Nourit's shoes (or sit in Nourit's potty seat!) She makes some fake grunting noises and faces, then motions back to the tub, so back she goes. Then, Nourit is ready to come out first, so I get her into pajamas and brush her teeth while Avi continues to splash and make little tooting noises. But wait, those aren't toots. SHE POOPED IN THE BATHTUB! My freshly scrubbed bathtub! (The cleaning lady had left only hours before.) Yuck! Not only that, the tub is having trouble draining, and the plumber hadn't come to fix it yet. Double yuck!

Somehow, I get both children, clean and warm, into bed and to sleep. I wash the tub as best I can, and dump half a bottle of rubbing alcohol in the bottom. Mike comes home from his meeting, we quickly swap stories, and I sit down to work on my lesson plan for Music Together. I say to Mike that our house still smells faintly of poop, thinking it's just a holdover from the evening's activities. I go in Nourit's room to kiss her goodnight, and realize she pooped in her pajamas while she slept. We drag her out of bed to clean her up, and as I flush that final nugget down the toilet, it overflows. Right onto the freshly mopped floor.

Epilogue: I put a huge load of towels and poopy underpants in the washer with double detergent, and re-mop the bathroom floor. Finally, my pajamas are on, my contacts are out, and my teeth are brushed (but I can't use the toilet because Mike hasn't plunged it yet.) I stumble out of the bathroom to make that request, only to stub my toe on the toy car that's in the middle of the hallway. "Wheeeee, let's go for a ride!" a warped woman's voice screeches as I dive for the Off button. Shit!