by mayberry on June 28, 2010
Every night when I peek into my son’s room, I see the puppy lamp. I swear it makes me smile almost as much as the sight of my little boy all sprawled out who knows where/how/why (on the floor? the armchair? horizontal or feet-first on the bed? next to a tower of picture books or a row of perfectly lined up toy airplanes?).
We’ve had the puppy lamp since way before Jo was born. Somewhere in the first trimester, my husband got into the Pottery Barn Kids catalog and next thing you know, the nursery was pretty much finished. He bought the lamp, an ABC rug, and stencils to paint the alphabet on the walls. Once you have the rug and the wall decor, there’s not a lot of decorating left to do, you know?
I appreciated the enthusiasm, I really did, but apparently he’d never heard that mothers usually like to at least help pick out this stuff. Still, I liked it and I liked how the room turned out, with blue walls that we decided were suitable for a boy or a girl, and the alphabet letters in a border near the ceiling. They were all white, except for the ones in the boy and girl names we’d picked out (word nerds!). A friend came to stay with us at one point while the room was half guest room and half nursery; he spent half the night racking his brain to figure out the names (he eventually did it).
When we left our apartment in New Jersey, we said goodbye to the painted letters. When Jo turned 7 we finally got her a big-girl rug–no more pastel ABCs. But when we upgraded Opie’s room from baby to boy two years ago, the lamp stayed. In the past several weeks I’ve given away most of my maternity clothes and a substantial chunk of our newborn boy clothing stash, without (too many) tears. But I’m going to miss that lamp.
by mayberry on June 16, 2010
My very generous husband gave me a very generous gift for my upcoming birthday (the one that ends in zero) and our also upcoming anniversary (another ends-in-zero event).
A dog on a surfboard! Just what I’ve always wanted!
Well, actually, an iPad. I was/am stunned.
After I get over my shock, I’ll need to load ‘er up. If you have an iPad, or covet one enough to have done some window shopping, tell me what I should get! (And P.S., I don’t have anything Mac or Apple–not even an iPod–so I am starting from scratch.)
by mayberry on January 13, 2010
We randomly acquired this item yesterday in one of those “skill”-crane machines. Immediately Opie said “Hey! I can use it for the wedding!” We sent this picture to my sister so she knows her ringbearer is already prepared.
by mayberry on December 11, 2009
It’s my spy lookout, my scenic view, my alone space, my social (networking) place, my home office. It’s where I eat, work, chat, and play. It’s where I live: in front of my laptop, at my dining room table, looking through my front windows to the street and park beyond.
Today’s #best09 prompt is “best place” of 2009. I knew it had to be somewhere at home. I love going out, I love traveling and seeing both new and familiar people and places. But I also crave the comfortable cocoon of home. I need to be surrounded by my own stuff in my own rambly old house.
I used to work in a little bedroom upstairs on a desktop. Three years ago, we bought laptops and I still planned to stay in my office, with the bigger monitor and my own private desk that I wouldn’t have to clear every evening. But when the laptop arrived, I flipped it open on the dining room table and I’ve never gone back to the office. Here, I love being able to look out the windows–in front, where I’ll see ice-fishing shanties being towed to the lake soon. And at the side, where my neighbor’s kids come outside in all manner of silly outfits and play with their puppy.
When I sit down in the morning with my first cup of tea, I swear I sometimes sigh with the relief and anticipation of a few hours of work/Web time. And since I’ve needed that relief more than ever this year, this has to be my #best09 place.
by mayberry on July 20, 2009
The occasion: My birthday, and that of a friend.
The event: A dinner party in our honor, with four other friends as guests, and our two husbands as chefs/hosts.
The menu:
- Cold hors d’oeuvres — goat cheese balls with roasted walnuts, crostini with olive tapenade or artichokes and parmesan, fresh gazpacho
- Hot hors d’oeuvres — scallops with paprika, grilled shrimp, tortilla espanola, chorizo
- Roast turkey breast with truffle oil
- Grilled vegetables prepared in a citrus bath
- Green beans with orange zest and sesame
- Saffron rice
- Dessert — raspberry sorbet, mint ice cream, and ginger ice cream with berries and cookies
- Beverages — red sangria, white sangria, berry bellinis, fruit-infused water (strawberry/rhubarb and lemon/blueberry)
My friend K. and I hatched this plan a few weeks ago and boy did it ever succeed. We were talking about how all she wanted for her birthday was a really nice meal that she didn’t have to prepare herself. We moved into talking about how I would love to entertain more, but my husband gets super-anxious about having things just so when people come over. Somehow these two came together into an idea to have the two guys work together on a dinner party for us. I pretended I knew nothing about this while E. (K.’s husband) emailed my husband to propose such an event. And then it all came together in my backyard last night. I sat on a chair for about five straight hours eating and drinking and chatting and can you think of a better birthday present?!
Cherry on top: The kids stayed at E.’s house with K.’s parents and when I picked them up, K.’s mom said “These two children have some of the best manners I have ever seen!” I’m sure she was just being nice but I will take that compliment ANY TIME.
by mayberry on March 3, 2009
Recently one of my oldest friends came to town on a cheering-up mission (oldest as in, I’m not going to do the math because the answer will scare me). It was a perfect girls’ weekend–dinner out, a night at a hotel, a yoga class, a little window-shopping, a theater outing. She happened to be here the night of the Oscar broadcast so we watched that together.
Oh, and we got pampered at a spa too, thanks to a Christmas gift from my husband that proved far more valuable than he ever imagined it would. I wrote about the spa in a guest post at my friend Anne’s blog, The Jet Set Girls–where you can get all kinds of insider beauty and travel tips.
R. and I live almost exactly 1,000 miles apart, but we make it work. We don’t talk every day anymore like we did in high school (you know, debriefing the day that we spent almost entirely in each other’s company) or email many times a week like we did before kids (she has three and the hottest topic of our nonstop chatter was whether either of us is brave enough to go for one more). But she came to visit me here in Mayberry when Opie was only a few months old. My kids and I went to see her when she was juggling a brand-new baby and two older boys by herself thanks to a horribly ill-timed National Guard deployment for her husband. We’ve managed to meet up on business trips to New York (mine) and Chicago (her husband’s).
Jobs, houses, and hometowns may come and go, but your best girlfriends? You can always count on.
by mayberry on January 26, 2009
Valentine’s Day always catches me off-guard. I always feel I deserve a longer break after all the giftiness in December. Then along comes February 14 and suddenly I need dozens of teeny tiny cards for the kids’ classmates and oh yeah, maybe I should get cards for the kids from me too, and I guess one for my husband while I’m at it. I was shocked the first time my kids got not just those cards with the see-through envelopes, but little bags of candy and other goodies. I missed the memo on that one (and I still resist).
So. If you want to be more prepared than I usually am, please to visit The Full Mommy’s Valentine Gift Guide. It features goodies galore for kids, spouses, and even a little something for your favorite dog. Thank you to Leighann and Amy for tons of great reviews.
by mayberry on December 15, 2008
Someone will probably want to revoke my Mom License for this, but I never used to check on my kids at night before I went to bed. Just getting them to sleep in the first place was far too time-consuming. I dared not risk it by tiptoeing anywhere near. The only time I chanced it was if I suspected they might not, in fact, be in their beds–hence the time I found Opie sound asleep on the floor of his room, completely bare of pajamas or even a diaper.
Lately, though, I can’t resist sneaking a peek. I must have established the habit when Jo was
sick this summer. Now I crack open each door just an inch or two, to see those little sleepyheads. I’d never realized Jo talks in her sleep. But nearly every night, she mumbles a little something. The sound of the doorknob turning is just loud enough to rouse her ever so slightly, but she rolls over and is dreaming again before I can even close the door. Opie, inevitably, hasn’t moved an inch since I left him a few hours before, snoring slightly, with the stuffed animal
du jour tucked in nearby.
Turning away from his door, I look across the hall at the room that’s now (theoretically) a home office, and will one day be the new baby’s room. Can it really be that one day another child will sleep right there behind that door? I’m still amazed.
by mayberry on November 17, 2008
Last night I made my son two reckless promises: That he would not die until he is a hundred years old, and that when he did, I’d still be with him.
We were listening to a Classical Kids CD called Mr. Bach Comes to Call
, in which the ghost of Johann S. appears to a little girl who is begrudgingly practicing the piano. She is soon won over by the jolly old man and his tales of a busy, happy, music-filled life. At the end of the disc Bach mentions a composition that he was unable to finish, because “everyone has to die sometime.”
We’ve played this CD probably a hundred times, but last night Opie stopped to think about that line. His face grew fearful. His voice quivered as he asked if that meant he would die. “Yes,” I told him, but not for a very very very long time, when he was a very very very old man. “How old?” he pressed, and that’s when I told him a hundred years (the biggest number I thought he could grasp–as it turns out, he didn’t, and I had to count almost all the way from 3 to 100 to show just how far that was).
Still he wasn’t satisfied, and his voice continued to teeter on the brink of tears. “But when I die, you won’t be there.”
“I will,” I said, tears sliding down my own cheeks. “I will always be with you.” Because I will, I thought. In Heaven, in memory, in some little sliver of DNA, one way or another. Unwilling and unable to explain all that, I defaulted to the simple lie. And then I perpetuated it by promising that Daddy would be there too, and Jo, and even our dog.
I know I’ll break a lot of the promises I make my children, intentionally and not. I just wasn’t quite prepared to discuss one of the universe’s greatest unknowns right there in the dark, at 9 p.m. after a full day of solo parenting. (And you better believe I was the one who stayed awake staring at the ceiling when it was my turn to go to bed.)
by mayberry on October 28, 2008
It hasn’t been all sweetness and (crazy overexposed) light. But it’s been pretty sweet.
Happy 8th anniversary!
Every night when I peek into my son’s room, I see the puppy lamp. I swear it makes me smile almost as much as the sight of my little boy all sprawled out who knows where/how/why (on the floor? the armchair? horizontal or feet-first on the bed? next to a tower of picture books or a row of perfectly lined up toy airplanes?).
