Triangle Mamas

Pinpricks and Profanity

Two weeks ago, I made the kids commit to their Halloween costume plans and then went shopping. Apparently, however, two weeks before Halloween is a better time to buy Christmas decorations than anything orange and black. The aisles were bare or picked over with the only costumes remaining being ones made for dogs. My sons had two choices: dress like a slutty pirate girl or like a Golden Retriever dressed as a slutty pirate girl. I should have known back in August when I couldn’t find the back-to-school supplies because they had been cleared out to make room for the Halloween stuff. Next year, I’ll know better. This year, I needed a plan B.

Dean was easy. He was wooed by the chance to accrue accessories of the macabre – a Styrofoam skull and a plastic dagger. Logan, being two, doesn’t really care. A few days later, I stumbled upon a penguin costume in the correct size and on sale for under $10. Done. Jess is adamant that he will be a green dragon. A fire-breathing dragon, by the way. I thought that a dragon would be simple to create and that I was getting off cheap and easy. I would simply buy a green hoodie and some felt – done. Except about a dozen stores later, I still could not find a green hoodie, green felt, or a ready-made dragon costume (not made for a dog). And I did consider the dog costume wondering how dog poundage related to kid size but I felt $30 was a little steep for something made for a dog. So back to the fabric store I went and over $40 worth of materials later, I am sitting at my long-lost sewing machine making the whole damn thing.

Five years ago when I left my paying job for the adventures of staying home with the kids, I initially put a lot of pressure on myself to be the perfect Alpha-mom. My sister was my roll-model and she is a firm believer in the essence of mommy-hood being in the making versus the buying of things - including the sewing of the Halloween costumes. So in my first stint home full-time, I made my sons’ costumes. It was an easy choice to make since an Obi-Wan Kanobi costume in size 4T was impossible to find at the time. However, I firmly believe that if you can find something ready-made that is just as good as what you can make, it is more efficient and probably less expensive to just go ahead and buy. Because while it is nice to be able to say, “I made it myself,” it can be a little stressful. We often joked that if we ever hosted our own sewing show, we’d call it “Pinpricks and Profanity.” Sometimes the frustration of trying to make the sewing machine cooperate is just not worth the effort.

So while I don’t think sewing costumes is a “Mommy Must-Do” activity, I admit that I don’t have a problem with actually doing it. Except for the time wasted searching for the easy shortcut, I am quite happy to make a costume for my child. In fact, I have been known to make costumes for other people’s children and if I had just started the “from scratch” approach several weeks ago, we wouldn’t have been in crunch time this week. And my husband thinks I am crazy for making life harder for myself when a Halloween costume should not be a life’s priority right now. He wants to know why I didn’t just tell my son to choose some other costume so we can be done. Well, because two weeks ago, this did seem like the cheaper easier choice.

But here is where I pull the selfish card – yesterday as I gazed upon my kitchen table made-over into a sewing studio, I sighed with contentment. I realized that I like a project. Rather than feeling overwhelmed, I was eager to begin. Halloween is the one time a year that I can haul out the sewing machine and create something from start to finish, without feeling like it’s just my own little hobby. Like making cookies rather than buying the perfectly fine bakery brand, the satisfaction of having made it myself has been worth the trouble. And the mommy and son moments in making the costume together have been simply priceless.

"Pinpricks and Profanity" is cross-posted on Susie's personal blog At Home With Me where she chronicles her sewing escapades and other adventrues of being a mom to three boys.

Happy Halloween from Triangle Mamas!

Abby the beautiful lioness with her mama, Nikki.

 

Anna and JD, children of our soon to be introduced blogger, Tonya.

 

Linus as King Kong with his Empire State Daddy, and a shot from a Halloween party.

Just a tease from tomorrow's post from Susan. Here's her mom-made dragon costume.

  And finally, Marty's family of pirates. Arrrrrrgh.

Hope you all had a fabulous Halloween weekend! Stay tuned tomorrow for the saga of a sewing mama.

Sign Wars

The sign wars are upon us.  Up and down my street, my neighbors are putting out their yard signs to show which candidate they support.  McCain across the street – Obama next door.  Obama three doors down and McCain the two houses after that.  House by house, we are a neighborhood divided.  Only if you look at the signs, of course, because it’s not like we are really talking about it.  That is, we’re not talking about it with the McCain supporters across the street.

So why, if the election is what is really on everyone’s minds, are we ignoring the proverbial white elephant in the room?  Do we simply want to be polite and respectful to those who have an opinion different from our own or is it just easier to only speak with those who share our views?  I’m not sure if my 83-year-old McCain-loving neighbor was insulted or amused when my five year old asked her why she liked war so much.  She was confused at first but he pointed to her McCain yard sign and said, “You like McCain so you must like war.”    She laughed a little and looked at me.  I shrugged and said, “We’re an Obama family” and that sort of ended the discussion.

I have always shied away from talk of politics.  Typically, I have felt too un-informed to participate in such conversations.  I don’t even know what a Pundit is.  But it’s like March Madness and suddenly I’m a basketball fan.  I am late coming to the impassioned political party but here I am.  I watched the debate.  I follow the polls.  I go on-line to listen to the speeches.  I read the headlines on Huffington Post.  I can honestly say that I have never before quite felt this way about an election – completely emotionally invested in the outcome. This will be the first time that I will be voting for a candidate rather than against one.  And I want to talk about it. 

However, I am aware of a certain discomfort in discussing such matters.  Being from New England and in the words of Dar Williams, “We don’t like to make our passions other people’s concerns.”  I was raised in a family where polite conversation did not involve talk of politics, religion and sex.  I personally felt uncomfortable reading a blog post recently written by someone who is very pro-Palin and I will guiltily admit that I may not be back to read that particular blog for a while.  Several others have commented that they steer clear of politics on their personal blogs for the same reasons and I understand.  It simply feels safer to talk about the current state of the election with like-minded people – I get it. 

The problem is, only speaking with folks who feel the same way I do isn’t really helping the cause.  I can write numerous posts about what I like about Obama and what I dislike about McCain and those of you who agree with me will say, “Sing it Sister” and those of you who disagree will quietly click away.  I’m sure I won’t be changing anyone’s mind if they have already made their decision.  There is no reason for stumping here.  [For those who are completely undecided and plan on flipping a coin in the voting booth, email me and I’ll tell you why I am pro-Obama – or ask my five-year-old.]  Seriously, do you really want to hear what I think of Palin’s Katie Couric interview?  I bet you can guess. However, I feel that we do need some true activism so I make the following proposals for whatever side of the ticket you are leaning:

1. Stop talking about the candidate for whom you are not voting and start talking about the candidate for whom you are voting.  Tell us why you think he’s the right man for the job.
2. Write a heart-felt email or letter detailing these reasons and send it to everyone you know.
3. Call your local campaign office and find out how you can help.  You can volunteer any number of ways by helping to get folks registered to vote or making calls.  If you don’t have that kind of time, offer to donate food to feed the other volunteers.  Here is the contact info for the Durham for Obama office but oddly enough, I couldn’t find a local office for McCain.
4. Donate to the campaign of your choice.  It’s going to take money to campaign hard in the battleground states, which now includes North Carolina.
5. Offer to drive someone to the polls that ordinarily might not be able to get there on their own.
6. Find out who’s on the fence – these are the people who will decide the election and these are the people we need to be talking to.
7. Get the facts on your favorite candidate – feel free to correct people who are spreading ideas that are simply not true.  For example, “No, Obama is not the anti-Christ.”  Need help wading through all the “facts”?  Go to Factcheck.org for nonpartisan information.
8. If you are not already, get registered to vote.  You must be registered by October 10th.  If you don’t know how to do this, go to RocktheVote.com and do it on line.
9. By all means, vote.  But only McCain or Obama can be president so think carefully before wasting your vote on a third party candidate or write-in.  No one has ever made it to the Oval Office by a write-in vote.  If you do decide to write-in your vote, email me ahead of time so I can make sure you know how to spell my son’s name correctly. 

Right now, especially here in the Triangle, it feels like anything can happen.  But if true change is to happen, it is going to have to start with us.  Be proactive!  Stake your yard sign proudly.  And please, please talk about it – I’d love to hear what you are thinking.

Susie writes about her kids and their political wisdom on her personal blog At Home With Me.

 

 

An Impromptu Trip to the River

Last week, I had a day where I was desperate to get out of the house.  I wanted to be doing something, anything other than folding laundry and picking up toys.  So while two-year old Logan was emptying the contents of his sippy cup again, I asked him if he wanted to go play in the water.  I meant the pool, of course, and he quickly scrambled into his car seat.  As we passed the entrance to the Eno River State Park, Logan started pointing and saying “Wav-ver, Mom-mee.  Right there.  Go Wav-ver!”  Logan had his own idea for our outing.

“You want to go to river?” I asked.  I was surprised he remembered how to get there and that he had a word for it.  I turned the car around and to the river we went instead.   Once there, I knew that Logan had the better plan.

The Eno is considered to be a “slow” river as it passes over some fairly flat land.  It meanders more than it rages, making it the perfect place to find some quiet - unless, of course, you are visiting with a toddler.  For Logan, there was too much to discover to be quiet as we spent the next couple of hours feasting on nature with all of our senses.   

I watched Logan methodically tossing rock after rock into the water.  Splash.  Kirplop.  He squatted in the water trying to catch small fish. He groped around on the dried area of the riverbed, unsuccessfully grasping at tiny toads as they hopped out of reach – his chubby little fist closing just a little too late.  Without hesitation, we wandered into the water, giggling as the water trickled over his feet.

I stood next to him, feeling the water running over my own shoes and wishing I had the camera.  I wanted to document the dappled light dancing on the blue-green moss.  I wanted to catch the sunlight highlighting each movement of the water.  I wished for a way to record the music of the water lazily trickling over the rocks.  I wondered how I could save the scents of the dirt, the mossy rocks and the decomposing plants in the water.  Instead, I could only savor the moment right then – making time stop and freezing it forever even if only in my mind.  I took a breath.  I took it all in, letting it feed my soul.

I am always pleasantly surprised to come to the river and find myself feeling this way – at peace.  To find myself simply being in the moment with my son rather than worrying about all those daily life distractions was a much-needed gift.  It was a gift given by a perfect summer day and the toddler who knew a better way to enjoy it.

"An Impromptu Trip to the River" is an original post for Triangle Mamas.  When Susie is not enjoying the river with her three sons, she keeps a personal blog titled At Home With Me.

Coming Home

Like many Triangle-ites, I am not actually from here.  I am a “transplant” - a Yankee, no less.  And it’s taken me a long time to feel like my roots have taken to the North Carolina clay.   For the first few years, I kept asking my husband and myself, “How did we get here?”

Again, like many other transplants who come to the area for the education, the job, or the singles’ scene, we came for the job (my job that is).   Eleven years ago, we were living in Lexington while my husband attended the University of Kentucky.  We had discussed different “life-after-graduate-school” scenarios and the subject of coming to the Research Triangle Park kept coming up.  Since my husband is a scientist and my job is health care related, the Triangle was marked as one the few areas that would likely support both our careers.  It still seemed so far off in the future to me – something that we might do some day.  So I was somewhat surprised the day that he came home with a job posting for me in our future hometown.  Knowing that openings in my field of specialty are few and far between, we knew I had to go for it.  So I did and I got the job.  The future suddenly became the present.

I remember the day that I left Lexington and all the doubts and sadness that came with that leaving.  Our one car was packed with everything that I thought I might need in the next couple of months.  It was raining, an appropriate backdrop for how I was feeling.  My husband was to stay behind to finish his degree and sell our house.  I would go to North Carolina to start work and find us a place to live.  I would be on my own for the first time ever.  He stood on our front stoop, next to my best friend and our cat.  They looked the same as I felt -so sad, so lonely.  I drove away from my first home, my husband, my housemate.  I drove alone through the rain into my future.

The driving part felt good, actually.  Driving past all the sites I wished we had explored more:  down I75, past Berea, past Knoxville, down 40, across the Smokies in Autumn – beautiful even in the rain and even though 40 was still only one lane a year after Hurricane Fran, a stay-over in Asheville and then onto Durham.

Two months later, I made the trip again - this time, in a moving truck with my husband and the cat. There would be no going back. It was New Year’s Day, the start of a new year, new life and new home.  But for the next few years, we would reluctantly call this place home.  Home was back north where our folks lived, where we grew up.  Home was Lexington, KY – the place we started our married lives together, where we bought our first house.  We lived in North Carolina, but it was not home, not yet.

For a long time, I only knew the area between our house and the hospital.  We didn’t go out much.  We were too old for the college bar scene and since we didn’t have kids, we didn’t fit into that crowd either.  We didn’t really fit in anywhere.  A nurse I worked with at the hospital told me once, “This is a hard place to get to know.  It will take you about five years.”  I was shocked at the time but it turns out she was right.  Five years later, our oldest son started preschool and we finally found our people, our community.  We finally knew people who had children our son’s age, who were expecting another child like we were.  Having a child opened up a new world for us – I started going places with our son and learned my way around town.  I started to meet people we would call friends.  I learned what a great place the Triangle is to raise a family. 

On our last trip up north to visit family, I realized that when we spoke of North Carolina, we finally called it home.  When we drove back and crossed the border from Virginia, I read the sign out loud, “Welcome to North Carolina.”  I looked into the backseat and said to our restless children, “Look, we’re almost home guys.”  It took along time, but we have roots here.  The Triangle is home.  And I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

This post is original to Triangle Mamas.  Susie lives in Durham with her husband and three sons.  She keeps a personal blog titled At Home With Me.