Do Try This at Home, Kids

A few years ago my friend, Steph, taught me to make jam.  She gave me her no-nonsense instructions and a beautiful old-timey pot & directed me on which handy tools to buy (which is part of the fun of having a new hobby, now isn't it?).  I must've eaten at least a jar's worth of apricot jam while cooking that first batch.  Wow.  So good.

And... then my littlest one starting toddling around my legs in the kitchen.  Bubbling preserves (apricot! plum! strawberry! raspberry! what a summer!) started feeling a little dicey.  But, having homemade jam in the house at all times wasn't something we could give up without a fight.

So we started making freezer jam.  What a delicious and easy alternative.  In fact, this batch here -- the only thing I actually did -- was to pour it into jars (because one of my handy gadgets is, eh-hem, misplaced).  Otherwise, the kids could have done this part, too! 

Invest in some basic canning jars if you don't already have 6 miscellaneous boxes in your garage.  For $10 you'll have freezer jam containers, storage for leftovers, a bouquet delivery system, homemade cookie gift packaging, button jars, ...

On the right: what we had in our
pantry.  On the left: what I just
bought.  The key is
"instant" or "no cook."

Here's the low-down:
Stir together sugar & freezer jam pectin (from our local Ace Hardware store) according to package directions.
Mash fruit (fresh, or 3 bags of frozen raspberries -- our year-round, non-heatstroking standby).
Combine.
Pour into jars (I buy freezer jar lids at Ace, too.  $5)
Freeze until you're ready to use.
Eat.  On everything.  Share.  Gift.  Take pictures of jammy smiles.

Story Lights

I love the rhythm of summer -- the predictability of the weather and of little that must be done.  And of easing into summer nights.  Play falls into dinnertime.  And then children spill back into more play -- but changed with full tummies, family chatter, and the setting sun.  The glow of candles in the house meets the setting of the sun outside.  Dinosaurs and trucks find a place to rest, book stacks materialize, and "pioneer children" ("farm children," "kids riding on a train across the country to see their aunt") gradually settle.

Because of this natural evening ritual, we have a lot of homemade candle holders.  We made these with large applesauce jars, Mod Podge, and tissue paper. (Thanks, Mama Scout, for the inspiration!)  Sela wrote a short story, typed it up, and printed it out.  Linus dictated his story to me and went to the desk for the "fancy" scissors to cut it out.  To change it up a bit, I stuffed an errant strand of Christmas tree lights into the jars.

'Night all.

What I Can Do

For the last three years, we've wrapped up our year with a spring ballet show.  Like the music and movement of the ballet itself, it adds a rhythm to our days and weeks, as well as our ears and eyes.  It's a big commitment for everyone involved (especially Linus).  "Is it worth it?" some ask.

I found Sela's rehearsal schedule on the table this morning.  She had used the paper cutter to trim it so that it could be carefully glued together as a single sheet, and she marked her rehearsal times with neat stars.  Her bag's already packed for her next rehearsal.

So, yeah.  It's worth it.

To see her joy at the opportunity to be involved in a project that could only be experienced as a group -- is worth it.  It's one thing to have a good ballet "class."  It's an entirely different experience of childhood and of growing up to have the chance to be part of a "production."  It's a massive undertaking by her ballet teacher (and many others).  I can't replicate this experience for her.  But I can lend support to her, to the production, (and to little Linus) because: they are worth it.

Not-Quite-Nestle: A Story of Frivolity & a Dream Come True

I'm amused every once in a while by what I discover about myself -- like when I hear myself think, "I've always wanted..."  They're not predictable things.  They're not universal things.  I think I've written about how I had always wanted to learn to crochet granny squares, and I had always wanted a bird to make a nest in my yard.  I don't usually realize they're a "thing," until they happen.

Here's another: I've always wanted my chocolate chip cookies to be fluffy.  (Don't you just love people?!)  I've tried lots of recipes, none have panned out.  I've tweaked my favorite (Nestle Tollhouse) in many ways.  In the end, they never end up fluffy, but the flavor's good, so Nestle Tollhouse is my recipe of choice.

Well, almost.  I don't use their chocolate chips.  Those were traded out for fair-trade chocolate chips years ago.

Well, I made cookies the other night, and... they were fluffy!  They looked like I always wanted them to look!  And they tasted delicious!  (And not just the dough, which is what I mostly eat.)  But, the sad news was that I couldn't figure out why they looked different.  I thought at first that it was because I had the oven rack in the wrong place and then the cook time was off.  But, no.  I went to bed disappointed that this was the best chocolate chip cookie I've made, and I wouldn't. be able. to make it. again.

I woke the next morning thinking about this (what a great problem to wake to, right?): hmmm, what did I do?  the color is so light. why didn't the brown su- aaaaah, I forgot to add the brown sugar!  Hm.  

My new best recipe for chocolate chip cookies:

1 cup butter, softened (2 sticks)
3/4 c. sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 1/4 cups flour
chocolate chips to taste

Beat butter.  Add sugar and vanilla & beat.  Add eggs & beat.  Add dry ingredients & (you guessed it) beat.  Stir in chocolate chips.
Bake at 375 for 8-10 minutes.

The Thing About Saturday

Saturday I walked around thinking this,
"I've done nothing today."

Two things --
One: I felt just fine about that.
And, two: Turns out, it was absolutely not true.

Here's what I actually did:
:: cleaned the bathroom
:: swept the playroom floor
:: cleaned up the living room
:: made a healthy and delicious dinner
:: had a friend over to play
:: was kind, loving, gentle, and generous to my family

Here's what else happened.
My children:
:: played peacefully together
:: read
:: drew
:: wrote
:: relaxed
:: laughed
:: imagined
:: talked

All those things are not "nothing."
I'm really trying to break this very, very bad habit.

If You Build It...

Every once in a while it's time to gather up all the pencils, markers, crayons, scissors, glue sticks and what-nots from all corners of the house.  I scoop them up, drop them in jars, set them where little hands can reach, and voila!  It's like they have magnetic pull on small hands.  It's a force of nature.  Love this.

It got me thinking about this idea -- strategically placing "things" around "places."  I've been doing this for so long, I don't remember where or when or why or how it started for me.  I remember doing it when I worked at a University Lab School with infants, toddlers, and preschoolers as "curriculum."

  

And I remember coming across a Feng Shui principle that says we should keep the things we want to get around to doing in our environment (insert photo of dusty guitar case leaning on armoire here.  And stacks of fabric and sewing books. Wait.  I might not totally get Feng Shui -- isn't there also something about "clutter" in there, too?  But, this is not my point.)

And I've always done it with my children.  With all sorts of things.  Books, games, art supplies, and other items of potential interest.  A friend recently pointed out that this has been given a name: "strewing." 

It makes me wonder how else I could apply this idea to my life, to my children's, that would support other important experiences.  Support in a meaningful way, that isn't contrived or manipulated.  Or, how perhaps, I already do, but haven't thought about it.  

I'd love to hear your thoughts about it, too.  Leave a comment and share!

A Poem, by Linie & Mama

New Dinosaur

Spiny and Linie are friends

They like to play at the park

They like to swing and they like to slide

But they never stay after dark

It's not too late to start celebrating National Poetry Month...

And there are no rules about how to do it...