On providing a shelter

I didn't tell my children what happened in Newtown.  I hid that. I bore it by myself.  How could I ask them to carry the weight of the knowledge that those atrocities had happened to people their age, the ages of their friends.  How could I ask them to reconcile their idealistic views with the reality of the fallen and broken world around them?  I wanted them to live in a world where schools are safe, and evil exists only in fairy tales (and even then, good always triumphs) for a just a little bit longer.
But the truth is, they don't live in that world.  I wondered if I was doing them a disservice by shielding them.  And I realized last night, that they would go to school, and hear about the tragedies.  And I wanted to be the first one to squeeze them and tell them it would be ok.  I needed to be there for them when they found out.  So I quietly told them.  And my son's eyes welled up, but he didn't let them spill.  And my daughter said "Who would do such a thing?" and I didn't have an answer.  I could only hold them tight and tell them I love them.

On the Election according to Leaves

Me: If you could vote in this election, who would you vote for?
Levi: I wish I could write your name down.
Me: Really???
Levi: Yea, living in the White House would be sweeeet! But by the time I'm 18, you'll be old.
Me: Ugh!
Levi: Uuuhhh...I mean you are 25.  You will always be 25.  Your moods might change, but your age always stays the same.

I flipping love that kid!

On a mother's wise words

Lily and I were watching the last episode of Parks and Recreation, in which Leslie Knope decides to get a perm.

Me: Your mom had a perm.
Lily: (sucking a pacifer very judgmentally)
Me: What? It was the eighth grade!
Lily: (continuing to suck and judge)
Me: You will probably have weird hair in the eighth grade, too.  You will think you know things, but you won't.
Lily: (still sucking, but I could tell she was really thinking about what I said and vowing to listen to me and value my words and advice even when she's in the eighth grade)

On a name change

Did you notice? I don't just have Leaves and Bugs anymore, there has been an addition...

On one of the best gifts I was ever given

My Senior year of high school I was editor of the school paper, and making straight A's in everything from AP Calculus to my fourth year of French. So my generous father allowed me to enroll in one "easy" class. I chose Clothing Design. It was in that easy class that I learned the basics of threading a bobbin, sewing a straight seam, and following a pattern. I loved it and actually wore the things I made. For my 18th birthday, my parents bought me my very own sewing machine and a gift card to buy some fabric and a pattern. Although I hate to admit it, that was over 13 years ago. And I am still using the same machine (I don't think they paid more than $100 for it). With that machine I have dressed my windows and my children. I have turned Leaves and Bugs into a dinosaur and a butterfly and a princess and even Luke and Leia Skywalker. I've made Christmas gifts and covered pillows and I even made my dog a Miami Dolphins hoodie. I've turned sketches and ideas into real-life, tangible objects. What my parents gave me was a tool to create. They didn't give me something that would be used up, but something that would be used to make new things: a perpetual making machine.

On some of the sweetest words

Cora: I could snuggle you all day, without breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

Seriously, does life get any better? Her wild brother joined in and we had a quiet little moment Sunday morning. One moment like that gives purpose to everything else I do. I will never love doing the dishes or putting away laundry. I will never mark the day I clean the toilet with a smiley face on my calendar. But I can find joy and contentment in doing those things for my loves.

On the good things in life

My life is made good by the little moments

the closeness of my children and the nonsense we whisper in the early minutes before we're late for anything

the weight and warmth of the Bug in my lap, the softness of the yarn, the smoothness of the needles

laying in the floor with my Leaves, making anything we imagine with tiny interlocking bricks

the sound of singing from the shower

the sound of a light saber always

fingers in the flour and sugar, sampling each ingredient as it is made into something altogether different

soft curly hair sliding through my fingers into long braids

a nose being wiggled against mine

tiny popsicle toes tucked between my feet to warm them

love.