It gets harder and harder to write about you in just a few sentences each week. You are so big. So strong. So fast. So iron-willed. And yet you still have the tenderest heart. You feel things so deeply. You have the quietest, calmest soul of anyone I have ever known. And that is a rare thing in this world, my sweet boy. A very rare thing.
Despite the many difficulties of the last month, tonight I am feeling incredibly grateful. Grateful for my family. Grateful that I am a mother. That I am a wife. That I am a daughter. That I am a sister. That I am a friend. Remembering the car accident that nearly took my mother from me last Thanksgiving Day brings it all home. We haven't ordered a turkey. We haven't even done the grocery shopping. I am taking nausea- inducing antibiotics for a bad sinus infection and I will probably request pho for lunch. We will not wear color-coordinated outfits. We will not eat pumpkin pie. But we will be together. And we will count our blessings. And when we are done counting we will start all over again, not wanting to forget a thing.
Wishing those of you stateside a wonderful Thanksgiving, and all others, the beginning of a wonderful holiday season.
Oh Friday Feature, how I love thee. And frankly, I need a little Friday Feature today to distract from the fact that I am behind on juuuuuust about everything else. I'm not kidding. Does it exist in the universe? Then I am behind on it. Something about the one-two punch of daylight savings time with a small child and the construction of our new restaurant (which opens in 9 weeks), has left me behind on on sleep, writing, 52 weeks photos, laundry, personal hygiene, breathing air, you name it. So let's talk about some delightful books today instead today, shall we? YAY.
As a kid, I was drawn to a certain type of animal story. The kind with animals who wore suspenders, lived in tiny houses in the woods and attended one room school-houses, and sipped tea out of oak leaves and such. (Sylvanian Family ADDICT, as you can imagine.) If Inga Moore's books had been around back then I would have lost my ever-loving mind over them. My grandmother's name was also Inga, so I picked up A House in the Woods last year on a whim. I've been a massive fan ever since. She's got quite the body of work, but I am partial to her illustrated Wind in the Willows. Her newest book, Captain Cat, was released a few weeks ago and I can't wait to get my hands on it. She writes and illustrates the sort of cozy stories that make you forget they're not actually classics yet. The kind that make you immediately want to go out and purchase the DePembroke Corgi Family or the Nettlefield Goat Family for your children. Or other people's children. Or maybe you. I won't tell.
(P.S. A great little review of A House in the Woodsover here.)
The only place you are willing to be still these days is in your chair at the table. We are working on using a plate and a fork, which you are (still) gripping with your left hand. You will sit and eat an orange for 30 straight minutes. It is a very sticky affair. I am learning to accept the fact that nearly every photo I take of you at this age will probably involve you being covered head-to-toe in food. You love the restaurant most of all. Your daddy couldn't be more proud. 52: A Portrait A Week
I am working on getting caught up this week after the hell of daylight savings time. Thanks for bearing with me, folks!
You are climbing, climbing, climbing and able to get down most of the time. Running (or really fast shuffle walking) everywhere. Number of injuries sustained this week? INFINITY. Infinity number of injuries. You never, ever, ever tire of your books. You are extremely silly. You are mimicking all of a sudden, with words, sounds, expressions, gestures. You have manic dance parties every afternoon and love playing with water in the kitchen (lots of towels). You walked right into every house while Trick-or-Treating on Halloween, expecting to visit. Oh, my heart. I can't believe I get to be your mom.
Happy Halloween, dear folks! Or just happy last day of October, if Halloween isn't your thing. Regardless, I hope you have marvelous plans for tonight. I promised you a million photos of my baby in costume in exactly the same setting with only slightly different poses and you guys, I AIM TO DELIVER.
Seeing Ewan toddle around this year as Max from Where the Wild Things Areis a dream of mine come true. Maurice Sendak's death last year hit me hard; my love for his work runs very, very deep. Watching my little boy make mischief in the wolf suit, and reading him the story every night before bed are very small ways to pay tribute to an artist whose books I will never outgrow.
We will be visiting Daddy at the restaurant in costume this afternoon, and there will even be an attempt at one block of Trick-Or-Treating later tonight. (Which is maaaaybe the most foolish/ambitious thing I have ever attempted with a toddler, so WISH ME LUCK.)
I knew it would be nearly impossible to take photos of him in costume on Halloween night, so one foggy morning this past weekend, we took a little walk down to the farm stand in our neighborhood and I let him run wild around the pumpkins. Nearly everyone who passed by stopped to talk to us about their love of the book, and he had a blast, and it was all around heart-warming.
You guys, Halloween is tomorrow. How did that happen? October is a blur. A big, beautiful, orange blur. I have been seriously remiss in linking to my last set of reviews for Northwest Kids Magazine, so if you're looking for some fantastic, last minute, spooky (but not scary) Halloween books for the littles in your life, pop on over and check them out. I can't wait to share photos of Ewan in costume with you all. (Eeep!)