Baby Boom, Bundt Cake, and Big Bear Hat

We are in the middle of a veritable baby boom in our neighborhood. Every six months or so, all the ladies of the neighborhood gather together to shower an expectant mother and new baby, which I think you'll agree is the best type of get together.
I believe in the last two years something like fifteen babies have been born in a one block radius. Of course we're thrilled, because that means a wonderful community of children for our own kiddos to grow up in. And all those cute little babies!

Ben took the wee ones out on an errand while I made a present and a bundt cake for our little shower. I was so pleased with the result. One brown sugar bundt cake to go with some pumpkin ice cream I had made the day before. One cute bear hat from the Oliver + S Little Things to Sew, in wool felt and a plaid I decided was colorful enough to be truly gender neutral (for our neighbors who don't know the gender of their baby). I was quite pleased, that is, until the kiddos got home.

Do you see who's wearing the hat? Yes, Lily. After I tried it on Hugo and realized that I made my hat entirely too big for a newborn. Oh well. Babies do grow, right? (note: I'm sure the pattern in the book is just right... it was my mistake in trying to size down from the 4t size I had already traced onto parchment paper).

June 6: In Search of Summer

Oh yes, now I remember it: long summer afternoons spent with family and friends, food grilling, children playing, adults chatting. I remember it from my own childhood, and now I am acquainted with it on the other end of things: losing track of my children for hours at a time but knowing full well they are safely playing with friends and cousins and aunts and grandparents; bringing a change of clothes because inevitably there will be a sprinkler or mud or cupcakes to smear on one's face; children and parents sleeping oh so deeply out of sheer physical exhaustion. The past two weeks we have lived out of our home, hopping from one get-together to the next, landing softly among friends and good food. It has been wonderfully exhilarating. Summer is truly here.

Weekends are for...

Trips on the "choo choo train" (Ben has already announced that he is going to make trips on the train a date with Zosia... we're wondering if they charge you if you get on and off at the same station? Experience, anyone?)

to exciting destinations



filled with color...

and old friends. Does anyone recognize those two ruddy cheeked cuties flanking Lily? And their mama even brought some homemade granola bars (that's a hint!)

And then a quiet evening at home with friends, after the babies are asleep, playing a game and listening to Kings of Convenience. Bonus points if you can guess this game! Oh, how I love it!

Wishing you and yours a lovely weekend!

(some photos taken by Ben! I only wish I could remember which ones...)

Quotable Sunday

"Rites and symbols use the ordinary and earthy elements of our existence and, by encircling them, ratify, sanctify, complete. The ordinary becomes the container for the divine and safely holds what is uncontainable. The transcendent is disclosed in what is wonderfully familiar: bread, wine, fire, ash, earth, water, oil, tears, seeds, songs, feastings and fastings, pains ad joys, bodies and thoughts, regressions and transformations." --Gertrud Mueller Nelson in To Dance With God

Bonus points if anyone who was at this ritual can identify when it took place, and who owns the boot in the corner.

because good things must be shared

Rachel (one of Zosia's godmothers) and Sean just welcomed their daughter Junia into this world this past Sunday. I am not typically a huge newborn person, but I am totally smitten with Junia, maybe because I love her parents so much.

I thought this blessing was so beautiful that it had to be shared. From Sean and Rachel's blog:

At Junia's birth (8:55pm August 23) Sean and I blessed her with our words. They were the first unfiltered words she heard with her ears without my body filtering her. Though, I could not say them all with Sean because he had to go to the warmer to touch and meet her and I had to be poked, prodded and closed, we said the final bit together.

Junia's Birth Blessing

(Together if able, Sean if unable)
May you know

The freedom andlife of God when your are healthy
And the humility and need of God when you are in ill health.

May you know

The passionate, dynamic and even ordinary presence of God in your loving.
And the comfort of God in your heartache.

May you know

The delight of God’s creation as you grow and learn your own laughter, playfulness and creativity. And, find your passions in God’s creative zeal for you.

May you know

The joy and richness of God’s poverty and simplicity, and be trusting in God at the times when the world’s values push in on you.

May you know

God’s presence as woman, man, mother, father, laughter, sorrow and all the forms that God takes. And when your prayer ceases may a community hold you in faith.

May you know

That in whatever life holds for you- you are lovable and sacred and beautiful as you are.

(Together)
Our daughter,

We as your parents will celebrate who you are.
Be with you as you grow.
Acknowledge our mistakes.
Celebrate you as a part of our family and traditions.

We will laugh and cry for you.
We will love you, as best we are able- all the days that we live.

The Family Farm

I have often fantasized about living "off the land." I have read many books about this, have browsed real estate listings to see whether it would be feasible, and even almost convinced Ben to move to the country when we moved back to Virginia. The other day, my friend Carolyn and I realized that we both shared the dream of living in farm communes-- only she has actually spent some time living in intentional community, whereas for me it's just another pipedream. However, as we talked about our vision of having a farm in the country where young and old, able and disabled could live together and support one another through farming, we realized that at heart, we are both just city people without any real agricultural experience. Our hopes for the future overshadow our actual experience (or lack there of) with the difficulties of farm life. I mean, there's a reason why suburbs were created, and I'm sure some of it had to do with the fact that farming is hard work.

Several months after moving back to Virginia (to a small towny suburb, not the country), I am praising the lord that we're not on a farm. First of all, I have realized that as the mother of a young child, it's priceless to have friends that live in your neighborhood-- within a short walk. Second, it's amazing to be close enough to family to actually be able to mooch. And I like a lot of "city stuff." Some highlights of our week are almost always going to see Mr. Skip play guitar and sing at Stacey's Coffeehouse, or going to the library for a book reading, or going to the playground for playgroup. I love going for walks on the small roads of Falls Church, and love looking at what people have planted in their gardens, or meeting new people who are working on their houses.

But, I must admit, that somewhere beneath my joy at being here, I am still curious what it would be like to live on a farm. I stumbled upon Amy's Humble Musings a little while back, and occasionally will check in to see what she's writing about, and I loved her recent post entitled Observations on Our First Months of Farm Living. To be totally honest, I don't know all the details, but apparently she and her family moved to the country and are trying their hand at sustenance farming. Here are some highlights of her post:

• Children have lots of things to do when you're living on a farm (I imagine this would be most true for older toddler and kids) . "The children roam, romp, and play outside, and I don’t have to watch for speeding cars and pedophiles. In this way, it’s easier. I’m sure the kids have moaned that they were bored, but they never actually have been bored. There are creeks to dam up, eggs to find, roosters to tease, dogs to train, a baby calf to walk on a leash, hay bales to jump, traps to set, trees to climb, nuts to crack, cow milk to squirt at the cats, wild daffodils to pick, forts to build, and berries to pick."
• When you're living on a farm, in order to survive you should be realistic about what you can do yourself. Example: Amy's family buys stuff from Walmart regularly, including yogurt (even though they have a milk cow) and occasionally meat (even though they raise their own beef). "I’ve seen where people say that they “made their own laundry detergent”. (This is not a smack down, just an observation. I love ladies who make laundry detergent. You are my best girls.) What they really mean, however, is that they bought the ingredients from Wal-Mart and assembled laundry detergent. There is a huge difference. Without Wal-Mart, you’re sunk."

It's so interesting to get a glimpse into what living on a farm might be like, and it's also nice to realize that while it's a fulfilling existence, it's not the utopia that I think I often make it out to be. I think that just as before being a parent, I totally idealized what it would be like to have a child (it is amazing, but there are the sleepless nights, grumpy babies, and poopy diapers), I also tend to gloss over what some of the struggles of farm life might be. Let's just say that for now I'm happy to read my farm books, my farm blogs, and tend to my teeny tiny garden here in the burbs.

The Multi-Generational White House

Remember when I wrote about multi-generational homes here? Well, apparently the most famous house in America is joining the bandwagon. I was just reminded that Michelle Obama's mom is going to be living in the White House over at Crunchy-Con's blog. And what can I say, I think the idea is brilliant?

Our months living at my parents house last spring were not entirely conflict free. There was the fact that the subwoofer my dad's tv, which he watches late into the night, would vibrate the wall of our 'bedroom' (solution: buy my dad some headphones). Or those pesky overhead footsteps that we thought we had left behind in Somerville (solution: help my mom, the active stomper, take care of kitchen chores during daytime hours). Or the time I walked into the kitchen to see my dad encouraging the then 9-month-old Zosia to drink from the cat bowl (solution: reprimand the grandpa). But all in all, it was wonderful to have that built-in support network. Ben and I could sneak out for dates, our kitchen dishes seemed to magically disappear each evening, and from what I can tell, my parents have overwhelmingly fond memories of the time too-- I think that there was no greater pleasure for them than to walk downstairs in the morning and see their granddaughter working on breakfast.

I think there is a definite advantage to this type of interdependent family system, and while it totally challenges our American notions of breaking out of the family mold to set out into the world, it really does work. Of course you have to work on your relationship with the parents, you have to be willing to make some compromises, and you have to be ready to be flexible. But, that being said, I am absolutely sure that living with my parents was a wonderful thing for Zosia, just as I'm sure that having a stable and loving grandmother in-house will be a huge blessing for our First Family.

Squatting

You must read this article about the British squatting movement. The basic premise is this: apparently, England does not have many laws against squatting. It's actually something they're sympathetic to that has deep ties to the country's history. Squatting isn't considered a criminal offense, but a civil offense, and a group of progressive young artists and professionals has taken advantage of this situation by squatting in some extremely high-end properties, like this $33 million mansion in London. They live communally, dumpster dive for most of their food, and "have turned the house into a venue for lectures, workshops and exhibits that they call the Temporary School of Thought. For the past two weeks, the group has invited the public in for seminars on topics including Polish history, juggling, "alternative food design," biofuels and "treehouse training.""

Is this brilliant, or what? I can't say that it's high end, but the house next door is still vacant... anyone up for a little artists' colony?

Support

Today I was thinking about writing about violence, but have honestly felt so inundated by violent images and stories these past few days that I think I'm going to have to wait to go there. So, instead, I thought I would instead mention the incredible joy that it has been to be living within a strong community of support-- something that Ben and I have been lucky enough to do for several years now, both in Boston and here in DC.

Community is an amazing thing. This afternoon as I write this, for example, I can say that I have an impeccably clean house (even the bathroom! and that is a miracle), there are two loaves of freshly baked bread cooling in the kitchen, and I have a tired baby sleeping in the room next to me. And all of this is entirely because of community-- my dad, namely, who dropped by this morning to take Zosia out for a walk so I could get a few things taken care of around the house.

It is amazing to know that there are so many people around us that Ben and I love and fully trust-- and to know that Zosia is growing up knowing that love is something that comes from all sorts of people and relationships.

So, in keeping with the lighter tone of today's post, here are a few pictures of my growing baby bump, doing yoga with Zosia, and Zosia pre-walk with her dziadzius:

Plain Old Folks

Last night Ben and I went to a holiday open house that our neighbor three houses up was hosting. We got to see neighbors that we know/ meet a lot of neighbors that we've seen but never met. It was surprisingly nice, and I was struck by something about our neighborhood-- we live among some incredibly unpretentious, down to earth people.

Now, I'll admit, when we first moved here from Somerville, one thing that I couldn't verbalize but missed was the trendiness of our old neighborhood. In Somerville, there were tons of independent coffee shops, funky people, and quirky happenings (like these crazy massive bike rides through the streets). Our little corner of Falls Church, on the other hand, is humble. Unlike in Somerville, the people are not all young urban professionals, but there's truly a mix-- some young couples, some people who have lived here for decades, some middle aged families with older kids. The houses aren't super trendy-- they're stable reliable brick ramblers built in the 50s. Some have been renovated to look cute and craftsman-y, others have received these horrible makeovers that make you scratch your head in wonder. Others are just plain little homes that are unpretentious and functional.

Last night, though, I realized this amazing asset about our neighborhood-- the people, like the homes, are unpretentious and down to earth. Yes, we could have moved to Del Ray (a renovated part of Alexandria that is all the rage right now), but I bet we would have inherited some neighbors with lots of "image" issues-- let's face it; in order to be willing to pay the price to live in the hottest neighborhood in town, you've really got to care about what people think about you. Here, there's an assortment of people; the woman who hosted the open house has a knack for interior decorating and is the most amazing mother to two boys, one with autism; her neighbor across the street has lived here for 50 years, and was sweet enough to notice and compliment our window boxes; there are older childless couples, a couple that just adopted a little girl from accross the country, and then some young couples with babies and toddlers. It felt so... normal and down to earth. People were wearing horrible Christmas sweaters, jeans, ridiculously out of style long skirts, and a few were dressed trendily, but it seemed like no one cared, and I loved that. Jen, the hostess, made a comment at some point in the evening to the effect of, "We're never really planning on moving from here." I've been thinking about it all day, and have realized that I would be totally happy to become that woman who has lived here for 50 years.

Owning My Identity

In many social circles that I belong to-- the new mommy social circle, the social circle of my neighborhood, my church social circle among many-- my age is something that I feel embarrassed about. The truth is, often times I'm 15-20 years younger than the people whose friendship I appreciate and who value me as an equal. Ben and I generally avoid the topic of age. However, it has this way of always coming up... eventually. People are often circumspect about it, asking questions like, "So... when did you graduate highschool?" or once they learn that Ben and I are highschool sweethearts, "How long does that mean you two have been together?" My guess is that many of them are curious about our age. Neither of us look particularly mature and we both look young enough that us having a toddler is somewhat scandalous. I still remember once in Somerville when I attended mass by myself with Zosia, an older woman came up to me afterwards and congratulated me for being "such a brave girl." I had no idea what she was talking about, and only later realized that she must have assumed I was a teen mother.

Anyway, age is something that I'm very careful about and generally avoid. The reason is that the times that my age has been "outed," I have often felt a shift in the relationship. People stop treating me as an equal, stop confiding in me, start feeling awkward around me. The other day my age was outed to some of our very favorite neighbors, and the embarrassment that it created caused me to do a little reflection. Why is my age something that I'm uncomfortable with? And, will there ever be a time when I'm truly comfortable with my age? I mean, it seems like as soon as one outgrows the "you're just a little baby" stage, they enter the "you're practically retired" stage, where being too old is something they're nervous about.

All this is to say that I have decided to own my age boldly. I may be only 25, and that might mean that I don't have as much life experience as some, but that is just a part of who I am. I guess I'm not used to being marginalized for a part of my identity. In an ideal world, no one would be marginalized for any part of their identity. But in the mean time, I can always challenge people's assumptions about 20-somethings, or possibly gauge their authenticity by how they treat me once they find out the truth. Our neighbors delivered-- they both think it's cute and funny and it's something they tease us about now, but without compromising our friendship.

Creating Community

Last night I talked to Rachel-- a very dear friend who just relocated with her partner to Seattle. We caught up about family stuff, health stuff, and eventually landed on the topic of community. Community and communal living is a passion, and my own powerful experience of community in Boston set the bar very high for creating a similar community of faith wherever I may go. But, Rachel and I both agreed that finding community is hard. It is a challenge to find a group of people who share a vision of caring for the least among us, simple living, and intentional community. And once you find such a group, it's difficult to make that community more meaningful than just a group of like minded, similarly-situated individuals sharing dinner. And when the lifestyle of a 20-something often leads to relocating every few years, that difficulty is compounded by the instability of our communities once we do establish them. I have myself sometimes thought, "What's the point?" That seems to be the conclusion that so many of us have come to.

Here in Virginia, finding community has been both easy and hard. Since we moved into an area filled with family, old friends, and connections, we never really felt as isolated and lonely as we did when we first moved to Boston. We are blessed to have many family members that are on our wavelength when it comes to striving to live meaningfully as Christians. And we've connected with a lot of families with young children in our neighborhood who we are thrilled to share the parent part of our personalities with. However, I feel like our sense of belonging here has made it easy for us to become complacent in searching out a deep, diverse community. Searching for community is almost easier when you do feel that sense of isolation than it is when you're overall pretty content with your life as is.

I'm left wondering what my ideal community would be like, what it would feel like. I always think of the early Christians who had all things in common, sharing all aspects of their lives, despite the many differences between them, and think, "Wow." And yet, I also think, "How on earth did they do that?" So here's to the hope of finding new community in new cities, in unexpected places, and through deeper relationships.

Rich Soil

I know things have been a bit sparse around here since we moved down to Virginia... which is totally counter to my hope of using this blog as a way to stay in touch with people! Well, do you know how sometimes there are whole weeks when it feels like nothing is happening, and then all of a sudden, there's this torrent of insight? Well, that has just happened, and I'm still so in the middle of it that I am making sense of it all.

First of all, both Ben and I have recently realized that there is something different in the air down here in the posh-DC suburbs. The cars are a little nicer (okay, way nicer), the people a little more polished, and the pressure a little stronger to conform. The pessimist in me has long suspected that these VA suburbs are inherently corrupt, while the Christian in me that lives by hope has known that there is goodness everywhere. Well, for whatever reason, Ben and I have both been feeling really heavy with the burden of this place, which is teaming with hunger-- for power, money, and, I believe, under all of that, God. So, that "nothing" time of our first weeks here was actually just us giving in to those pressures.

Yesterday, Ben and I went out and saw Wall-E (the first movie out since ratoutouille before Z was born! woo hoo!). I was kind of horrified by the whole thing-- as in, I could really see not only our culture but my specific life in this movie. The story line is essentially that people have destroyed earth, and now live on this big space0crafty thing where they live lives that are focused entirely on technology. Over the course of the movie, Wall-E brings people back to earth, which is then restored as people re-learn the simple joys of life. Those of you who know my amish-leanings can understand why I was the first to say "Amen!" to the story line. But I was made a little more than edgy by how I had felt personally accused by the plot. I'm supposed to be a person living in grace and in accordance with the teachings of Jesus.

This morning, our little family finally went to the church that we have been meaning to go to since moving here-- Our Lady Queen of Peace in Arlington. Walking into the church was like balm for my soul... I literally spent the first few minutes teary-eyed from relief. Man, I guess I've been skipping church too much lately. Anyway, the morning was full of affirmations for me (and, I think, for Ben too) that this church is where we're being called to grow as followers of Christ. This week, out of the blue, the verse from the Bible, "create in me a clean heart, and renew a right spirit within me" has been stuck in my head. As we walk into the church, the choir is singing these very words! The gospel reading today was the parable of the seeds that fall on various forms of bad ground-- rock, thorny bramble, etc, each of which inhibits long-term growth. Here's a bit of that reading:

"The seed sown among thorns is the one who hears the word,
but then worldly anxiety and the lure of riches choke the word
and it bears no fruit.
But the seed sown on rich soil
is the one who hears the word and understands it,
who indeed bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.”

Ta da! Could there be a clearer answer to my struggles? So, I am called to be the good soil that hears the word and understands it (easier said than done, I'm afraid, but such a beautiful image to work with). Amid all of this craziness, all of this money, consummerism, judgment, and anger, I am called to be the soil upon which the fruit of the Lord is produced. I'm that little shoe in Wall-E that holds the single remaining plant on earth!

This is causing some drastic re-evaluation of the different idols that I have had in my life since moving down here: no, we are not called to have the most beautiful perfect home in Falls Church, no, we are not called to be the most put together, no, we are not called to have glamorous lives of eating out, buying nice cars. Those are the thorns! We're just supposed to be good earth upon which God can plant her beautiful garden. That's what I'm going to be trying to channel today.

Multi-Generational Homes

Next month Ben and I are going to be staying with my parents for a few weeks up to a few months. The logic behind it is impeccable-- we will be able to save money while looking for houses locally, will have help with the baby, etc. On one level, I am welcoming this time as an experiment in the age-old practice of multi-generational homes. I imagine that the majority of the world still practices this sort of living arrangement... certainly there are many families on our street here in Somerville that have many generations living in a double decker (possibly even the majority of families on our street?).

On the other hand, there are some things about multi-generational living that challenge the core of my American values. Didn't I work for 18 years to earn my independence? Isn't part of American life defining oneself from one's parents? Aren't adults supposed to view their families of origin with contempt and bitterness over unhappy childhoods? Those of you who know me can imagine that these American values challenge the way that I try to live my life-- in the context of community.

So I am trying to approach the coming months with a different mindset. Living at my parent's house is going to be a practice in living in a diverse community. Two older Polish folks, two young liberal Americans, one baby, one dog, and two cats living in community. I'll let you know how that goes.