Adventures at our house...

Seamstress to the Stars

You should come to our house someday. You wouldn’t know it by looking at the outside, but we have a mountain inside our house that you have to climb very carefully (log staircase with a railing made just for kids to shimmy up!). We have an entire ship deck where you may get to be Peter Pan defending yourself against Captain Hook (played very ferociously by Jonathan). Maybe you won’t believe it, but we also have the Hundred Acre Wood inside our house. And Tigger, too, if Jonathan has on his Halloween costume. Yep! I knew you wouldn’t believe it. But my kids do!
Best of all, we have Sherwood Forest inside our house…yes, the whole of it! Inside our house! If you came to visit, you might have the pleasure of being dubbed The Honorable Sheriff of Nottingham, or maybe Prince John, or even Little John. But you likely won’t get to be Robin Hood. Nope. That character is reserved for Jonathan. The morning after Jonathan watched the animated version of Robin Hood I was given a very important adventure-land assignment. I was supposed to be sewing some basket liners for my husband’s Christmas gifts to customers, but Jonathan managed to persuade me to make him a “Robin Hood dress”…er, tunic. I looked around the house for something just the right color of green. Aha! There it is…an old pair of sweatpants. I started by holding them up to Jonathan for height then lopping off the legs. I tore out the seams so I had two pieces of material in the shape of a funnel. Then, feeling quite smug at how easy this whole sewing thing really was, I sewed up both sides, making, yes, I see my mistake now, essentially a bag into which my son could step, but only wear if he didn’t want to use his hands. (“Oh, dearie”, and other choice words!) Not exactly great if you want to be Robin Hood and steal from the rich to give to the poor. Grrr. So I got out my trusty seam ripper and went to work on those smugly sewn seams (perfect seams too, I’ll have you know), and I put on my thinking cap, clamped my teeth, pursed my lips and began creating. Four hours of sewing later, which really translates into most of the day because of stopping to get snacks, stopping to take Annisia to the potty, stopping to wash Annisia off and change her clothes because I didn’t get her to the potty in time, stopping for lunch, stopping to put Annisia down for a nap… four hours of sewing later, I was done. Four hours of my life sewing a Robin Hood tunic that Jonathan then wore… for the next three days. (heehee…can you tell I am pleased?!) But minutes after putting said tunic on, what did he do? Did he thank me profusely? No (although the glee in his face was fairly rewarding.) Did he proceed to go off and win the archery contest so he could kiss Maid Marion? No. What did he do? He said what he really needed was a hat and shoes like Robin Hood. Waaaaaahhhh! Why me?

Darla Markovsky, January 2009, written for MOPS newsletter

That day after sewing the tunic. No, Jonathan isn't about to backhand Annisia, it just looks that way!January 7 after Aunty Leilani showed my how to make a Robin Hood hat, cut out a feather, and I winged a pair of moccasin shoes. Isn't he dapper?!
In the whole get-up, shooting a crossbow like Nutsy in the movie.

Mothering is an Adventure.

This is something I wrote for the MOPS newsletter in September. Our theme this year is "Adventures in Mothering". Enjoy!

MOTHERING IS AN ADVENTURE

Mothering is an adventure I think you’ll agree,
full of little kids voices saying, “Mommy may we
swing on the swing set; play in the sand;
hunt some mean gophers or antelope, and
be excavators and dig a big hole?
Hey, Mommy, can I have a snack in a bowl?”

Mothering is an adventure. We all know it’s true,
full of little kids voices saying, “Mommy will you
build me a train track going up a big hill?
Will you read me the story about, um, Jack and Jill?
Mommy, did you know my swing’s a skid steer?
Did you know I have hunted a lot of mean deer?”

Mothering is an adventure. I don’t think I’m alone
when I want to tell everyone about my little son
who uses couch cushions as ice so he can go skating
and escape or catch sharks and mean seals who are waiting.
And my daughter who wants to be just like big brother;
she loves dolls and tools, to the humor of her mother!

Mothering is an adventure and not just for the kids.
It’s daring for us to give them cups with no lids.
It’s a challenge for us to keep quiet when they hit heads or knees,
and not call 911, but just say “Whoopsie!”
It’s exhilarating for us to experience all of those firsts.
It’s plain fun to be parenting despite all of the “worsts”.

Mothering is an adventure I think you’ll agree
full of hours and hours of “Mommy and me”.
Mothering is an adventure. I don’t think I’m alone
when I say it is best when Daddy comes home!

Come Into My Corner

I wrote this piece for our local MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) newsletter. Thought I'd share it.

Come into my corner

I was in the kitchen one day attempting to put together a nutritious dinner. While Annisia squealed from her swing, Jonathan drove his semi into the kitchen and parked in front of the stove. He opened the back doors of the truck then got the toaster out of the cupboard.
“OK, Jonathan, get out of my corner here. I’m trying to make dinner.” WHOA! I am my mother’s daughter. That’s what she often told us as kids. I had to chuckle.
Then I noticed Jonathan had put the toaster cord into the back of his truck. “Look, Mommy, I’m making you French toast!” What a funny kid! Suddenly, I wanted him in my corner. I’ll gladly step over his “tools” if it means he’s content.
I grew up in a large family, the youngest of seven. Understandably, cooking meals for that many can get old at times. So Mom was interested in just getting it done. “Get out of my corner” was a phrase we heard often. (Until it was time to do the dishes!) These days at family gatherings, you’re more likely to hear one of us kids telling Mom to “get out of my corner”, and then we all laugh.
I moved away from home at 20 not really knowing how to cook much because Mom did it all and we stayed “out of her corner”. That doesn’t really matter because I learned how to cook. But I only have two children to occupy me, so I want to relax more and invite them to be around me while I go about my day.
It makes me think about the immense patience God has with us. He always has room for us in His corner, always wants to teach us something new (or re-teach us something old). So the next time Jonathan comes into my corner while I’m cooking and takes my biggest fry pan out to “make pizza stone”, I want to praise his imagination, stroke his ingenuity, and laugh at his antics. Come into my corner and “make butter” with the corncob butterer and use the cheese slicer to “make cheese”. Gather all the socks I am trying to sort and fold to “make a pile”. (Just don’t stack our firewood on top of them to build a fire!)
Come into my corner, my sweet little boy. May you always feel welcome to be around me.