If You Give a Mom a Baby


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Too fun to resist.  One of the Writer’s Workshop’s prompts this week was– take the children’s book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and change it to give a mom something of your choice.  This was a favorite book of my kids when they were small, and one of my favorites to read out loud.  So, I offer the following in tribute to the original’s author, Laura Joffe Numeroff.

 

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If You Give a Mom a Baby

(Subtitle: The Story of How I Have Three Offspring Instead of One)

 

If you give a mom a baby, she’s going to begin to sway.

When you give her the baby, the baby doesn’t have to be distraught for her to sway.

When she’s finished swaying, she’ll ask the baby a question.

Then she’ll talk in words that end in long E sounds to make sure the baby understands her lingo.

When she says words like horsie and doggy, she’ll notice the baby begin to grin.

So, she’ll probably use a voice three octaves higher.

When she’s finished babbling incoherently, she’ll want to inhale a big breath of baby smell.

She’ll press her nose to the baby’s scalp and start reeling.

She might get carried away and become light headed.

She may even unsnap the onesie and blow on the baby’s tummy as well!

When she’s done, the baby will probably want to take a nap.

She’ll have to fix up a little spot for him with a blanket and a pillow.

He’ll snuggle in, make himself comfortable and suck on an imaginary nipple in his dreams.

She’ll probably have one hundred other things to do.

Still,  she’ll stand on the same spot doing nothing more than watching him sleep, and occasionally she will sigh.

When she looks at the sleeping baby, she’ll get so  sentimental that she’ll want one of her own.

She’ll recall how quickly her own babies grew up.

She’ll see a picture.

In the picture, she’ll see only the best things about life with a baby.


Then she’ll want to see this picture come to life.

Which means she’ll need just one more.

She’ll paint her picture for her unsuspecting husband.

Looking at his wife will remind him of the last time they had this talk.

So… he’ll ask for a little time to think about it.

And chances are if he entertains the possibility long enough to think about it, pretty soon he’s going to find himself swaying with a brand new baby in his arms.

Filling an Empty Nest


workshop-button-1Prompt: If you could have given yourself a snapshot five years ago of what your life is like now, what would the picture be of and how do you think you would have felt about it?

 

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Five years ago, I had adjusted well to my oldest child being a college student three states away.  My other two kids were in high school though the end was in sight.  I so enjoy having the three of them around that I was not looking forward to the emptying of my nest.book store

My wise friend June was in the same stage of life.  She told me that we had to figure out what made us personally happy and pursue it.  What she understood was that our nests wouldn’t feel so empty if they were filled with what we loved other than our children.

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And so I rekindled love:  the love and friendship that my husband and I shared as newlyweds;  my love of creating art or something like it;  and my love of reading.  While all my rekindled loves bring me joy, it is my reading that has surprised me with its voraciousness.  Each night as I lay in bed it is not the stillness that has replaced footfalls on the stairs that I hear, but the adventures re-experienced with characters I’ve known forever or new escapades with those I have just discovered.  I feel no loneliness in the wee hours as my husband sleeps peacefully by my side because I am kept company by historical figures and fictional friends page after page.paris bookstore

The greatest accomplishment of my life is motherhood.  The times that my children are nestled under my roof are still my favorite times of all.  But the other times–the quiet times of solitude and contented partnership have a magic of their own.  Like all great stories, as life unfolds I am surprised and entranced by the plot twists, especially those which I could have not predicted such as an empty nest where a sense of emptiness is completely foreign to me.

 

Snapshots taken at an English bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, in Paris, France.

Used Books


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Used books are an inexpensive way to bring color and interest to a room at little to no cost.  When my sister’s small town library purged their collection, she gathered a box of visually interesting children’s books for me.  The library was giving discarded books away to anyone willing to take them.  Our own library does a bag sale each fall; fill an entire grocery bag for $5.00.

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I love mid-century children’s books for their graphics.  Their antiquated points-of-view are eye-opening.  Multicultural perspectives were not the stuff of these examples of historical non-fiction.

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I wanted to use this book opened, because the long ago broken spine had been repaired by a sticky, black library tape some decades back.  I didn’t find the tape particularly attractive especially in comparison to the quaint illustrations and rich yellowed pages.


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I rolled the first half-dozen pages in half and tucked them in towards the middle of the book.  This made the cover stay opened at a 45 degree angle.  I then tucked a few family photographs between the pages and set the book on a shelf in my daughter’s china cabinet as a photo display.  Since I had the book on hand, it took about five minutes to add a splash of personality to a bare shelf without spending a dime.

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Not By Bread Alone: 52 Loaves

A few weeks ago my friend Michael slipped me his copy of 52 Loaves, a record of William Alexander’s quest to perfect a simple loaf of bread by baking it every week for one year.  Alexander’s project took on a life of its own, leading him to spend time at a mill, a state fair and a French monastery before the year was complete.

Michael had read the book sometime ago and has been harboring a secret desire to build a brick oven in his backyard ever since.  Understanding that I would get as caught up in this man’s journey as he did, Michael set me to reading.  Sure enough my own version of bread baking fever struck hard.

There will be no brick oven for me.  Instead the book has inspired a project celebrating my mother’s love of bread.  No meal was complete for Mom without a serving of bread, and if she was eating at your house and you neglected to serve bread, she would remind you of this fact.

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Between August 16, 2014 and 2015 I will attempt a bread project each week in honor of my mom.  For the first week my project is creating a levain (or bread dough starter) using apples grown in my own backyard and instructions from William Alexander’s book.  Have you ever noticed the haze on a fresh, unwaxed apple?  Turns out the haze is actually wild yeast that has collected on the fruit.  Soaking the apples in water for a few days and then “feeding” the resulting cider items from the pantry is supposed to be enough to get a sour dough starter going.

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After sitting three days, bubbles have formed in my container of apples and water.  This apparently is a good thing.

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Bon appetite, you bubbly mess.  There is bread to be made.

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Starter instructions can be found on William Alexander’s website which also provides links to online sources for his book 52 Loaves.  And in case you are wondering, yes, there is a bowl of yeasty glop bubbling across town at Michael’s house as well.  Our spouses are reserving judgement.

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Shutters in France

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When we visited France I found the shutters on the homes enchanting.  I envisioned generations of French homeowners throwing them open to the warmth and light of day and closing them again against the chill of night.

I am reading Jean Benoit Nadeau and Julie Barlow’s book Sixty Million Frenchmen Can’t Be Wrong where I discovered another version of the shutter usage in France:

         Rates of taxation were based on “apparent” wealth, judged at eyeshot by looking through people’s windows. So, the shutter was a tax evasion scheme, and even when France started taxing aristocrats after the Revolution, the (shutter) reflex remained.  The French are still staunchly defensive about the privacy of their homes.

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This lavish looking apartment in Paris lacks shutters, but has canvas Roman shades on the windows’ exterior.

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We saw charming hardware on shutters in each city we visited.

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Sucré!

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