how we roll

you wouldn’t guess it by looking at me now, but i was once a city chick:   yup, born and raised in chicago. my upbringing, as with each of ours’, plays out in my adult life often and with great interest. i’ve been thinking of it lately because my first born, my baby now young man, is about to be a licensed driver.

i guess this might need more explanation for the correlation is a wee bit abstract. in my months of early driving, in those white knuckle moments of parent and child on the road, i had countless opportunities to parallel park. you know, the most challenging of the roadworthy have-tos, the hard part of that road test. i was well prepared because i tell you when you learn to drive in downtown chicago, you master the parallel park. in rural kentucky;  not so.

so today on this sunny late winter sunday, the last day before my baby’s road test. we practiced parallel parking, kentucky style, over and over again.

parking

 

20′ by 9′ standard parking space. yep, i think were ready.

 

rags to riches

IMGP3062I am especially hard on socks. I can wear holes in them at an astounding rate. And once a pair of socks has holes in the soles, I really can’t stand wearing them any longer… unlike my incredibly frugal husband who has the tolerance to flip hole-y socks around, wearing the bottoms up, to extend the life. Call me spoiled, but that is one trick I refuse to adopt for the sake of pinching a penny. I would rather go without socks altogether. 

I also think my rapid consumption of socks is why I’ve never really taken to knitting my own. I would wear them out faster than I could knit a pair.

Anyhow, after a recent cleaning out of my sock drawer my ever-so-creative little miss Opal sat pondering the pile of rejected and forlorn socks with holes. I could tell her brain was getting busy thinking of the promise all of those wool socks held. She politely asked if she could borrow my very sharp scissors and the next thing I knew, that girl had a pile of stretchy pot holder loops cut from the shafts of those socks that were headed to the rag bag.IMGP3075

And shortly after that, she had a pile of recycled, repurposed wool (and some cotton) pot holders.

Being that it is the winter and many moons since my children last had the opportunity to make a buck or two at our farmers’ market, and since their piggy bank’s bellies are sorely hungry, there is much talk of “I could sell this at market…”

So if you find yourself desperately in need of recycled sock pot holders, be sure to pay Opal a visit at our farmers’ market this spring. She will be there and she will be happy to take your money.IMGP3059

right now :: always learning something

I was in a recent exchange with an old friend in which I got to express how much I’ve grown and learned from being a parent. Cliche as is sounds, it’s only true.  My children have taught me so much about who and how I am, blowing away most of my previously held concepts of who and how I thought myself to be.  nail w lulah

And of course, just after making those comments, I am granted an opportunity to experience their reality once again.

Our Lulah is a tough farm girl, make no mistake. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like to dress up sometimes. Pink isn’t in her favorite color spectrum, but shiny tattoos and sparkly fingernails are alright by her. She discovered that one of the boxes of fake fingernails in her collection was really for adults. Only a couple of them would have fit her little nails. So she beseeched me to wear them.nails 2

I have never in my life worn fake fingernails. Never. In my whole life.

But for my daughter, of course I will.nails

I had no idea. My simple working hands felt like alien attachments to the ends of my arms. Besides the incredible difficulty I had just applying the nails, I kept scratching myself and banging my fingers into things because I was so distracted by the sensation of the nails, and their extreme length.

Lulah, on the other hand, was completely thrilled.

I felt better when I trimmed them down to a reasonable size.

Lulah was miffed.

So, I have learned more lessons. The lessons never end.

First, I have learned how people who wear fake fingernails feel. I don’t know how they do it, day after day. I respect their dedication to the absurd little adornments, I guess. I wish them well, at least.

Second, I have learned that though it can be fun for my hands to look just a little fancy, I really like my hands, fingers, and fingernails just the way they are. I was so relieved when the first fake nail fell off.

Third, I have learned what I really need to learn time and time again- that it is worth it to play with my daughter in every phase of her precious life.nails all 3