little girls' journals

for the past nine months the girls have (more or less) been keeping a journal and it has been awesome. long before i ever had children i planned how i would have "journal sundays" every sunday, i've even got it written down in a journal of my own somewhere.. we would come home from church and, after a healthy snack, we'd all sit down to reflect on our week and write in our journals. i would gently encourage the kids and we'd all smile.. that vision makes me laugh. the reality is much less serene but (mostly) much more fun. healthy sunday snacks have been replaced by desperate fistfuls of tortilla chips and doughnuts (it's true.. the deperate post-church hunger is satisfied by whatever chip sees first when he opens the cupboards), the journal writing is completely sporadic and sometimes totally enforced on reluctant little girls, but the records eve and ruth have of their own lives so far are pretty perfect in their sweetness, their craziness, and their awesome truthfulness.

eve. may 4, 2009. "no i don't like diurreah. i liked waching angelena ballrena"

ruth: april 21, 2009
mom: what did you want to say about your day?
ruth: i didn't want to say about my day
m: what is this picture?
r: jungle
m: what else?
r: i don't want to tell you.

eve: may 10, thursday. "i loved the little mermaid at times square."

ruth: may 10, 2009 "this is ariel and flounder. i goed to the little mermaid at the play. it was in Times Square. my favorite part was when ariel got the pink dress and when she got married. my daddy was named chip and i watched a play with dad. i wish i could see ariel again because i wish i could see the married part again."

to make "keeping a journal" something approachable i gave the girls a very simple formula to start with: draw or write about their favorite part of the day/week along with their least favorite. eve was totally in from the moment i introduced the idea and has stuck to the formula with few exceptions. ruth, on the other hand, heard the plan, made a bizarre face, rolled over and began complaining about not knowing any real princesses.. she has mostly stuck to her own formula of journal keeping, which at the beginning involved her drawing about whatever she wanted to while i pestered her to tell me about it. but now that she is starting to not only draw but write on her own (and realizing just how long it takes to make all those words) the formula is coming in handy, even for ruthie who likes to do everyhting her own way.

(two page spread) eve: june 3, 2009 "no i do l" [beginnings of "no i don't like"] june 4, 2009 "i poukt [puked] on charlies birthday. today i lovee ma-king the teve purojec [tv project]."

ruth: june 2, 2009

ruth: 10.9.09, "keira, tessa, eden, monet, malena, ruth, ms. jin. we're all starting a show on the stage."

eve: october 9, 2009. "i like gayb"

ruth: january 15, 2010. "planetarium. i did not like when it exploded i liked the gas of the sun."

there is so much i love about ruth's and eve's magical journals. i love that they don't think too much about what they record, they just do it. i love that they want me to look at everything they draw and write, because i know that won't last. and i love having this record of their drawing and writing progression. but most of all i love that it is their own marks that fill each page. it is all their own words, their own takes on their own lives, not my interpretation or perspective, but theirs. just as journals should be.

 

next up: the making of the journals.

from the archives: shoe money

one day, back when we were babies and had lived in new york for about two months, i came home from work to find a surprise on the kitchen table.

chip's parents had just come and gone for their first visit to see us in our new city. while here they outfitted their fledglings with new coats and, for chip, a pair of shoes. their sweetness and generosity compelled them to leave money behind for me, for my own pair of shoes since my working had gotten in the way of the shopping. chip's amazing presentation skills (and the flexibility of his graduate program in painting) compelled him to do this with that money left behind for me: 

these pictures carry a lot of memories- so many sweet, and a few hard- from that first year of marriage, that first year of brooklyn. but even more, they make me realize that we need more of this in our life. more making the mundane (if you can call money for shoes mundane) something special and celebratory. not overly complicated, but simple. chip is so so good at this. two pieces of paper, some ribbon and rubberbands and my return home from another day of work at an investment firm where i never felt comfortable was pure joy. so much better than a bill just lying on the table (although i certainly wouldn't have complained about that). this is what i'm after with raising my children. and with living life. making the normal, or even less-than-normal things something more. taking the time to celebrate our life. purely and simply, everyday.

monday favorite: chip rich, the great

so, apparently, neither chip nor i had any issues with self-confidence as children. i find chip's  borderline arrogance charming, my own disgusting. so, i hold back on sharing my own uppity entries rife with hideous self-righteousness (ages 11-13 are the worst so far) and share a bit from young chip's record. unfair? maybe. 

who does this account book-turned-diary belong to? why, "chip rich, the great" of course. not only did he, at the young age of eight, skip up to level nine but he was also invited to two birthday parties. not bad, chip, not bad. 

this spread may be one of my favorite in this journal. can you read it? please do. after being blamed for throwing a balloon filled with orange drink, chip reports that no underwear was hung from the flag pole at his sister's girl's camp and that the classic film, real genius, "was great." didn't we all think the same at age eight? and on the right side you get a little feel for the good sport he was. i am certain that after this outing he went home to watch himself flex in the mirror. because that's the kind of humble champion he was.

i suppose it is better to have too much confidence as a child than to be heartbreakingly short of that self assurance. however, i am hopeful our children think of themselves a little less than we did and reach out to others a little more. although, i admit that if they start referring to themselves as "eve the great" and "ruth, the great" i will be so entertained and insistent that they learn some magic tricks. 

monday favorites: part two

the journal reading continues to be my favorite activity of the new year . . . occasionally horrifying enough to make me want to throw mine in a fire somewhere. . . but overall, still amusing. one of the things i really like about it is the randomness of the things we wrote; mixed in with the reports of our siblings misdeeds and our deepest desires for the latest toys are the inclusion of some truly insignificant details. details like gum.

my entry, age 10 (1989):

"I just got out of bed and accidently swallowed my gum. But luckily I have some more. There's about 2 weeks til school starts. I hope I get a good teacher!"

chip's entry, age 8 (1983):

"I went with my Dad and Emily went with me too. We got a piece of gum. Oh, Miriam went too. They had a lot of video recorders there. Emily and I watched Tron on a video recorder. It was a Saterday so we got to watch some of Thundar the Barbarian."

what i wouldn't give to watch an episode of "Thundar the Barbarian" right now. . . also, to know the details of the gum swallowing. "accidentally"? and what was i doing in bed with gum in my mouth, anyway? . . . questions (and/or concerns) aside, i love the more complete picture these bits give of who we were. . . the little worlds we lived in and the details that filled our lives . . . 

monday favorites: part one

i don't mind mondays. in fact, i like them. i like having a fresh start. i like sending chip and eve off into the world and holing in with the two littles. i do laundry and clean the house, ruthie plays games and draws while charlie goes about his business of scooting, crawling, intensely searching for paper - any paper - to shove into his wet mouth. nap times come and go, lunch is consumed, a treat is made before we three head out to reclaim the fourth from school. more drawing, more playing, more cleaning, cooking, welcoming daddy home, eating, playing, planning, singing, two games (or three. . . or 12 if the girls can get us to agree) and finally, putting to bed.

i like the monday routine. and i'm about to like it even more. starting now. favorite mondays. or monday favorites. random things, any things, that fall into my wide category of "favorite." let's begin.

chip and i rang in the new year reading excerpts from our childhood journals to each other. we laughed and laughed and got embarrassed a bit (or a lot) as we revisited our old selves. . . chip's obsession with he-man toys. my obsession with proving my little brother got everything he wanted. our reflections on life as 12-year-olds. . . the gems in these journals are incredible. 

 

chip's journals include a lot of drawings and occassionally, my favorite, the beginnings of very promising comic books. comic books like TIMBERLOCK: MAN OF THE WOODS. amazing. i can hardly stand the suspense. or the erased pencil lines. few things are more adorable than watching people diligently erase, flip their pencil over and try again. especially-13-year-olds who grow up to be my husband.

applesauce

fall in new york means a lot of things to me, all of which are pure magic. but before they really begin to manifest themselves one thing needs to happen. applesauce. 

for the fourth year running i made my way over to a dear friend's brownstone and spent eight hours cutting, smashing, cranking, pouring and steaming. by the end of the day we had 72 quarts of applesauce to show for our tired, sweaty selves. my 20 precious quarts of gorgeous pink goodness will be rationed throughout the coming year until the magic begins all over again. 

eight years ago

we became a family of two. now we are a family of five.

chip, you were right. if we would have been able to see all of this when we were first together in college we would have been so excited. because even now, right in the middle of it, whenever i take a minute to really look around and see our life i am amazed. i love you. i love all that we can call ours. . . . . except for the mouse. i do not love that elusive mouse. 

here's to love, marriage, babies and the millions of things in between that have made up the substance of our life together. 

happy birthday (and christmas) david!

dave, i love that i cannot hear acdc without thinking of high-school you, your old blue truck and the mullet you sported. and then i think of your truck catching on fire -woops- and your replacement cars, first the 280zx, shortly followed by the geo metro whose bumper you "sewed" back together with big metal wire/staples, instead of just getting a new one after it was ripped off. i love your intense frugality and the incredible (although sometimes unsightly) solutions you come up with in order to save. the incessant "guess what? i love you!" game you played with little boy bobby still makes me smile. i cannot believe, but dearly love and am secretly jealous, that with a little soldering you turned a bike into a unicycle and legitimately taught yourself how to ride it all over our bumpy dirt roads. you are so quick to give a full, hearty laugh at my jokes and stories and that alone makes me love you forever. yes, you once rocket-launched me across the entire front room when i refused to get out of your way, but you also didn't yell at me when i borrowed your white shorts and then ruined an entire load of all your new clothes with the tube of lipstick i left in the pocket. it is amazing and so impressive that with a full family you went back to college, worked like mad and officially revealed that you're an engineering genius. i still can't believe you and erin have SIX kids, but i love the happy chaos and love that rules your home and how you are all just perfect together. when i was about 6 years old you pulled me out of too-deep water in a friend's pool just as i was about to start panicking for air. i was so relieved and grateful to have you as an older brother at that moment, and the feeling has stuck. happy (late) birthday dave. i love you.

happy birthday (week) mom

i love you mom. i love that you made all seven of us volcano-shaped mashed potatoes "erupting" with red colored gravy that destroyed the broccoli trees and cheese-cube houses on it's way down. i love that i can't count how many times i've seen you laugh until you cry. i am in awe when i think of throwing a wet, dirty dish rag at bobby, missing and hitting you in the face instead; you were so calm as you peeled it off your glasses and slowly handed it back to me. i love thinking about the hours you spent patiently helping me with my third grade robot project. i love the power you had over us with just one look. i love, though will never really understand, how you rarely have a recipe for something, you "just make it." i love all those songs you were constantly humming, singing or whistling and the fact that you are, to date, the best whistler i have ever heard. i love that you gave us each our very own box of sugar cereal each christmas. i love the motherly pride that frequently beems from your face and how you have always been so quick with your praise. i love that you seem genuinely pleased to talk with me, even if it is the third call full of questions that day. i love the absolute confidence you have always had in dad, yourself and all of your kids, no matter what. i love that you are still one of the very first people i want to talk to about news in my life, good or bad. i love you for always being able to help me see the good and hope in hopelesness, that you have always been a safe haven to come to.

i love realizing more and more each year how much of you is in me. and how much happier my life is for it.

happy birthday week mom. i love you. a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.

california, i'm comin' home

that joni mitchell song ran through my head and out of my mouth every time i was in the car and driving through the golden hills of my california last week. i lived all of my life in california and all but the first 8 months in the little town of placerville. it was my home. then i went to college in utah and hawaii, got married and moved to new york. while i was busy doing that my parents sold the house (along with all the dirt, bushes, trees, barbed wire and star thistle) that all of my childhood memories revolve around and moved away. i haven't been back to placerville for more than 12 hours in more than five years and i haven't come near my old house since a couple years before it stopped being home to porters.

but this trip things were different. this trip i had time to spend in my old hometown and time to drive the winding roads through the gorgeous golden hills i love. i had time to cry while i was doing it. maybe i cried because i missed it, or because i mourn the loss of the little girl i was when i lived there, maybe because i can no longer call those hills and roads mine or maybe just because of all the sweet memories they hold for me. or something else entirely. . . i'm not sure. but i cried and sang to my california and felt more at home driving through that country than i have in years.

and while i was driving i remembered that that little town with all its hills and oaks was my first love. the best kind of first love. the kind that helped me grow, slowly and gently. the first love that made me feel sure and capable and appreciated. the kind that now makes me teary because of all the sweet and young feelings that surface when i think of it. the love i would never want to reclaim because i have become someone new and so has it. but it will always be my first love and for that reason, i will love it forever and part of me will always be at home with it.