Category Archives: Photo of the Day

Hello, October. It’s Apple-Picking Time!

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Mmmmmm. Cruncy, sweet, crisp, delicious apples!

Fall in New England is my very favorite time of year. After more than 25 years of living in parts of the country that don’t do autumn very well, climate-wise (sorry–don’t mean to disparage your season, Florida, but… c’mon!), I’ve found myself being totally ecstatic when the end of September rolls around. The leaves, the fall produce, the crisp fall temperatures–these are things I’ve missed for most of my life.

And, of course, the farms. I love love LOVE visiting real, working farms and supporting local agriculture. So, last weekend, we decided it was time to head to the more rural parts of our area for some apple-picking time!

Allen and I loaded up the kids, and I grabbed my camera. We drove out to Stow and did a quick drive around Honey Pot Hill Orchards to check on the picking conditions and to meet up with some friends. Our first surprise was the huge professional-looking banner over the entrance, welcoming the apple pickers. And then there were attendants in orange vests, gesticulating purposefully and hurriedly, directing us to the HUGE parking area. We… kept driving toward the exit. As we passed by the entrance to the picking area on the way out, we spotted the hundreds of other apple pickers; but it wasn’t until we saw the guy in the bear suit giving out balloons that we knew for sure that it just wasn’t our kind of place. If it’s yours, you now know where you should go. They do a good business, and little kids, especially, love going to Honey Pot Hill.

We wanted a quieter, less crowded picking experience, so we went down the road to our first choice for apple picking–Carver Hill Orchards, a smaller, family-owned farm. You go to Carver Hill to pick apples and enjoy the leisure. You can also get cider donuts and pie and ice cream, but you don’t have to endure the theme park silliness if that’s not your style.

We took our time picking our apples, sampling from each tree to ensure we got the kind we like best. Laurel got stung on the lip by a kamikaze bee flinging itself out of a tree, but she endured it like the trooper she is. I pulled out the intact stinger from her lower lip with tweezers from my first-aid kit. We watched the swelling, put some ice on it, and she was good to go. The girls climbed trees to pick the best of the fruit. Andrew picked his first apple. We didn’t have to share our trees with anyone else. There were plenty of other pickers around, but we were never crowded. It was a wonderfully peaceful way to spend a few hours on a lovely New England afternoon.

So I have a peck of apples now sitting in my fridge, and I’m thinking of making some applesauce and at least ONE apple crisp. Do you have a recipe for either you’d like to share?

Here are some pics!

Laurel holds the cool fruit to her ouchy lip

Kelsey nomming a Cortland

Allen getting a little sun!

The girls show off their hard work

Andrew picks his first apple

Beyond Pink and Blue: On Gender and Clothing Your Baby

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Andrew, in blue!

Dressing very small, new humans is fraught with challenges these days. Did you know that there are people who actually judge you, based on your baby’s clothing? Your open-mindedness is being measured. For instance, dressing your baby girl in all pink in this day and age apparently signifies to some people that either you are ignorant, or you are an insensitive clod who buys into the social construct that says we dress our babies according to their genital presentation.

But what if there are other things to consider? What if, for instance, you really, really like pink? Do you not dress your girls in pink just because you’re worried about what everyone else thinks?

Of course, this issue goes beyond pink and blue. This problem exists on many levels. I’ve ranted before about Disney princesses and gendered play. But I’ve never had so many people talk to me directly about the issue of clothing until I started carrying around a long-haired baby boy with long black eyelashes whom I sometimes dress in purple. When I correct their gender assumptions about my child, most of these people apologize profusely. But I’ve had other responses that really trouble me. One woman told me I should cut his hair and dress him in primary colors only. Another was just shocked and speechless. I’ve actually decided to stop correcting people’s assumptions about his gender because I’m rather chagrined at the responses.

What the hell, people? Why is this so damned important?

I have two older girls. And when they were babies, I was gifted YEARS’ worth of nice, quality baby clothing in which to dress them. And I would have to say that about 90% of those clothes were pink or purple. But I didn’t dress them in pink or purple to make sure everyone knew I had girls. That’s just…what I had. I quit my job to care for my children. We didn’t have a whole lot of money. And we didn’t need to buy or acquire other clothing. I don’t really care for pink, personally, but my girls looked adorable. And when I had to add to their clothing, I chose colors I prefer, like green and blue. I didn’t really care that others would then identify my baby as a boy. And they did. All the time. Was it a simpler time, just 6 years ago?

Now I have a little boy. And, again, I dress him in whatever I’ve been given. My friend passed down all her boys’ clothing to me, so I have lots of stuff with which to dress my son. I would say that 90% of the clothing I have is blue. I’m happy to dress him in this clothing because he looks beautiful, and because blue is my very favorite color.

I prefer my pigs to be pink.

I have had more than one person give me the hairy eyeball for dressing my boy in blue  clothing. Because I guess I’m not being subversive enough. I’m not forwarding the cause. I’m acting in a stereotypical fashion. And I suppose that to them, I am part of the problem.

But I have a little something to say about this, and it’s been hard to write. I don’t want to offend anyone. I have friends who are gender queer; I have friends who fight every day to live in the gender identity that they choose, rather than the one that was assigned to them via biology. And I support them 100%. But I have to say this anyway.

I don’t care how you dress your baby. It just doesn’t matter to me.

I agree with the idea of using more neutral, unisex colors and styles for dressing babies, if for no other reason than to send the message that gender identification doesn’t matter, especially when it comes to babies. But in practice…it’s just not that important to me how you dress your baby.

There are other elements to consider, or at least there are for me. I’m very invested in being more environmentally conscientious, and more financially practical in my consumption of goods. I’ve made a commitment to live more simply, to make a smaller footprint, to use what I have and what I can find. I’m trying to only buy “new” if I’ve exhausted every other alternative. I want to reuse. So I try to find my family’s clothing from hand-me-downs, clothing swaps, thrift stores, yard sales, and … well, you get the idea. And cool, boutique gender-neutral clothes haven’t really made it to the second-hand market yet. Or at least not where I’m looking.

But, anyway, it’s not on my agenda.

It comes down to this: we are a nation obsessed with the superficial. So although I agree with the idea of dressing babies in gender-neutral styles or using unisex themes because, really, we shouldn’t need to impose ideas as to what is “gender appropriate” in baby clothing, I also don’t want to get caught up on that level of judging people according to the way they present themselves. It’s a double-edged sword. I can’t win, either way.

Babies. Unless you give people some hints, chances are no one will be able to tell if you have a small human of the girl variety or of the boy variety. This, of course, doesn’t stop every stranger who sees you from inquiring as to the gender of your baby.

Why? I think, basically, because people are curious. And, for some reason, learning a baby’s gender is something people want to know. Sometimes, it’s a conversation prompt. “Oh, he’s a boy? I had a little boy, and he liked to climb my bookcases. Does your little boy like to climb?”

And sometimes, I think they ask because they can’t tell, and that makes some people uncomfortable.

In the bigger picture, how you dress your baby doesn’t matter. Babies are babies. And the way you dress your baby will not immediately affect your baby. So let’s stop worrying so much about how everyone else is dressing their babies. Dress your baby the way that is most practical to you. You only have a small window anyway, because one day maybe your 3-year-old daughter will declare an end to pants FOREVER. Or decide that she wants to wear only black. These are the times when clothing becomes important. When you allow your children to express themselves through their clothing choices.

I'm way too cool for the sidelines...

Our middle child, Laurel (6), may be the girliest girl I’ve ever met. She wants to look her best, and her idea of what is “best” differs from mine by about 179 degrees. I try to make sure she wears seasonally appropriate clothing, but that’s about all the say I get in what she wears. Monday, she was sitting across from me at the table, having a discussion with her older sister about friendship. Kelsey (8) was pining for her friend Ilana, and she told Laurel that she and Ilana were “sisters” because they love each other so much. And my 6-year-old, dressed head-to-toe in Disney princess pink fluffiness, says in her most matter-of-fact voice, “Well, when you grow up, if you want to, you two can marry, because that’s totally legal!” And my heart did a little leap of joy.


I love my Dad even when he dresses me funny.

Because ultimately, it’s not the way you dress your baby that will make a difference, that will make a brighter future for him or her, or for us all as a society. It’s what you teach her about equality, about women’s rights. It’s how you stand behind him when he wants to wear skirts to elementary school because he loves skirts. It’s about having amazing conversations that show them the world as it is, and the world they can transform it into, through their actions and their understanding, and the way they choose to live their lives.

So, hey, dress your baby the way you want, according to what’s important to you. But don’t judge me for doing likewise. I’d rather tackle more important ways I can address gender and equality issues than worry if my baby looks too butch for our toddler playdate.

Come Visit! We Have Deadly Potions. And Cookies!

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Keep Out! We are doing SCIENCE!

I dragged out the big book of science experiments yesterday to ignite the imaginations of two little girls and maybe sneak in some hands-on learning.

Before you go thinking I’m this great mom, you should know that I had ulterior motives. We have a free-time before homework time on school days, and usually that means they are allowed to play games on a computer, read, or play in their rooms. All of these are mommy-free activities, and *ahem* I wanted to play with my kids. So, selfishly, I suggested we do some science! Laurel was quick to jump in, as she had been asking for a chance to make up some magic potions. So I donated bottles, droppers, cups, dish soap and food coloring. Laurel very thoughtfully made the above sign to warn trespassers about the dangers.

Kelsey wanted to mix OTHER ingredients (something more MATURE, for her age level, she said). She was hoping to just throw a bunch of food-like elements into a bowl and “make something,” but I suggested instead that we follow a recipe! And, umm, there are some cookie recipes we could use to talk about the ways baking elements come together to transform a bunch of ingredients INTO FOOD! She chose a sugar cookie recipe, and we talked about how amazing baking soda is, and how we are actually experimenting with elements that, when mixed, have a chemical reaction, and isn’t science tasty!

Meanwhile, on the porch, Laurel was mixing up some dangerous potions that, apparently, cause death. They are blue and sudsy and smell suspiciously of black pepper. You don’t want to drink that stuff. DEATH.

Science can be tasty!

So, I can’t actually say that we did a structured SCIENCE activity as I would have liked. But the kids had a chance to get messy and do some independent “experimenting.” We had a great conversation afterwards about scientific method and hypotheses and such. And then we had dinner and ate some really yummy cookies, saving some for their Dad, who had to work late.

Best of all, yesterday I got to play with my kids. Because summer is over, and they are busy with playdates, ballet, soccer, and lots of other after-school activities. You know. All those mommy-free things that move kids toward being more autonomous, independent little people.

And I miss them *snf*.

Soccer Grows Up!

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A face full of happy!

Kelsey hasn’t played soccer since she was 5, when she played in the city league in Greensboro, North Carolina. The players were encouraged to, basically, run after the ball and perhaps get a foot on it. There wasn’t a lot of technique. Run to the ball. Try to kick it in the correct direction. Yay! I likened to the level of play I witnessed back then to a flock of flamingoes, all chasing after the same fish.

Even back then, watching Kelsey happily playing soccer was flocking wonderful. (sorry–couldn’t resist)

Anyway, soccer has changed! Kelsey joined a 3rd grade established team in our town, and the coach is COMPLETELY AWESOME! They have technique! They have a plan! There are terms used, and the girls are actually playing together as a team! *boggles!*

Now our family calendar is filling up with obligations this Fall. Our Friday nights are taken up with practice until dusk. Our Saturday morning games start just past bleary o’clock. There are workshops to work on technique, tournaments…. I hope she falls in love with soccer as I did as a kid. I wish I could be out there with her. I loved soccer almost as much as swimming when I was a kid. But I’m happy to be cheering her on from the sidelines, yelling encouraging things, learning when to shut up. Taking photos. Trying to catch little glimpses of her face as she flashes by, gauging the level of fun she’s having by her smile and focus. I live for those moments when my kids are happy, doing something they really dig.

I am SO a soccer mom. *gleeee!*

Parenting: Messing with the Bull

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Can't we all just get along?

I’ve been talking to my older kids lately about the expectations involving our parent-child interactions. They are mature enough to understand that the parent they get is determined in part by their own behavior. If they treat their parent with respect and use good communication, their parent will react in reasonable ways, being respectful in return. And if they behave in ways that are disrespectful, rude, obnoxious, or in a way that physically hurts their parent, they will get the parent who gives consequences, takes away privileges, sends them for time-outs in their room, and raises her voice.

I feel that it’s a positive place from which to parent, but yes, in short, I’m telling them that if they mess with the bull, they get the horns.

And this isn’t to say that I’m always parenting from the happy place or even from the neutral zone. I try. I really do. But sometimes, I am way deep into enemy territory and the slightest provocation will mean war. But I think it’s important to communicate this up front, so that my kids know to tread softly and be more patient. Last week, I was kept up all night long with a ravenous baby. I was exhausted in the morning, and when the baby finally passed out for a long stretch, I crawled to the couch and warned my kids that I was not going to be functional for a little while, and if they woke up their brother, there would be hell to pay. And my kids played quietly while I caught up on a little sleep and turned into rational, reasonable mommy. Score!

And we are letting them know that our parenting of them also depends on how THEY are doing. That if someone is grumpy, we will be more understanding. If someone doesn’t feel good, we will be more sympathetic and adjust our expectations. This parent-child interaction thing goes both ways. And the amazing thing is that this is working for us.

Two days ago, Laurel had some loose bowels, which is totally to be expected given our latest experience with the never-ending GI issues. Still, she felt shame. She wanted privacy in the bathroom, and no she did not want to try to empty her bowels again. Usually, I respect her wishes, but this is a health issue, and she needs the parent who pushes her to do the right thing. I pushed her, she refused. So I gave her a warning. I told her that if she wanted the mother who was understanding and patient in the face of challenges, who holds her hand through difficult times, who smiles and takes the soiled clothing to the basement to be dealt with, that it is in her best interest to trust this parent and to do what is being asked. She considered my words for a minute, and then she did what I asked, had a good outcome, and was happy and relieved. I did not have to transform into the mother who uses her strong voice and has to use negative means (counting to 3, threatening consequences) to get to that same place. And I fulfilled my end of the bargain by being encouraging and positive, running a nice warm shower for her, and taking her soiled clothing to be dealt with in the basement. Another score!

And then last night, Kelsey pushed her father too far. She got physical, trying to escape past him at bedtime to do what she wanted. And her usually patient, easy-going father had to grab her arm to keep her from escaping, and then he yelled at her. He explained that THAT was the consequence of her actions. That is the father she got when she acted in a way that was really not appropriate. She cried. And then she said, ***”I’m sorry, Dad, for pushing you to the point that you had to yell at me.” Allen felt both terrible (about the yelling, and at his child crying) and also… validated. They hugged, and bedtime happened. The experience was sub-optimal, since Kelsey went to sleep feeling sad. But I hope a lesson was learned: you get the parent you ask for.

The last few weeks have been tough, with the week of Laurel feeling really awful, with the loss of our dog, with the trip to the Emergency Room on Saturday, and then school starting up, with all its stresses as we begin again in a new school. And the four of us have found ways to communicate our needs to each other in ways that are more mature than they have been previously. My kids are learning how to be people who live in the world. It’s amazing to think of their development from their toddler years, when they were happy jumping monkeys who had emotions on a whim and reacted without thought of consequence, to now. They are becoming so much more complex and are more equipped to deal with emotions and the complicated dynamics of living in a family where there are differing personalities and ways of expressing ourselves.

The hope is that we all figure this out and become EXPERTS at communicating/interacting with one another before there are two strong-willed teenaged humans (and a younger sibling who will use his sisters as role models) living in our household. Living together with respect for each of us as individuals–that’s the goal.

How do you communicate expectations of behavior to your older children? Do you have any tools/tricks you’d like to share? We have an 8-year-old who is testing her boundaries. Do you have any tips to help keep the drama at a minimum? Share them please!

*** This is what we learned using “Peace Bear” for dealing with interpersonal dynamics. It really works! I’ll write about this soon, but big kudos to New Garden Friends School for training us all to use Peace Bear to 1. identify our feelings 2. take responsibility and 3. come to a resolution when there is an altercation.