Easter ties are for the birds

As Easter approached I raided my stock of consignment finds to see how my children's springtime wardrobe was faring. Not great, but I did rummage up this little number, which I thought would do nicely for Ellie for an Easter dress if the weather was nice enough (it was; we reached 60 degrees even).



But poor Charlie. Still at an age where he outgrows his wardrobe every couple of months, and so big I don't dare buy too far ahead for him since he might just outgrow it before it't the right season to wear it anyway.



Determined not to leave him out, but realizing I had nothing Easter-y for him, I decided to make him some ties. I made this one first because I knew I would take pictures of it, and I knew that one day he would see these pictures and ask, "Why in the world did you put a mustard-colored with teal polka dots  tie on me when I was a baby?" The more conservative striped pattern just won't have that effect, and everybody needs to have that experience of being dressed in something that's a little trendy as a baby, but totally ridiculous when you're a teenager.





While I was working on it last night, I was listening to Wives and Daughters, by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell. (The novel is about 800 pages long, and I have to have it finished for my book club by April 9th.) The characters were talking about preparations for an Easter ball and how they all needed to have some new article of clothing to wear (preferably a bonnet or dress, but worse case gloves or a handkerchief--at least something that would show) or else they would be in ill favor with the birds. ?!?!? I know. I had to back that one up too. I was re-threading a bobbin at the time, so wasn't sure I heard that right.

I looked it up later. This is what Wikipedia taught me. If you didn't have new homespun at Easter, then moths and crickets would eat your old things, and rooks would nest around your home. Then there's the old Irish saying, "For Christmas, food and drink; for Easter, new clothes." Not super catchy, is it? Maybe it sounds better in Gaelic. And then there's the 15th-century proverb from Poor Robin's Almanack [sic] (yep, Ben Franklin didn't think up Poor Richard's all by himself), "At Easter let your clothes be new,/ Or else be sure you will it rue." Kind of some verbal gymnastics just to get to rhyme scheme right; could have just said it's bad luck not to wear something new on Easter.



So, turns out all this hoopla about Easter finery is based in old European superstition (I'd like to see some department stores set their Easter marketing campaigns based on this). But really, what of our silly traditions aren't really pagan or superstition anyway? The date for Easter itself is determined not by any religious calendar. It is the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox.  I think it's time we just picked a day and settled it. Worked for Christmas. Second Sunday in April. Every year. Done.

At any rate, Charlie didn't seem too thrilled with all the evil rooks I was warding off for him and all the good luck I was getting for him this coming year. Not to mention all the homespun goods of his that I saved from crickets. Or, at least, he wasn't too happy about getting his picture taken.

Heads or Tails or Tummies

Ellie has been fascinated with coins ever since she saw her cousin Tommy carrying some around all during Christmas vacation. She thinks every coin she she sees around the house is actually his and is always asking if she can play with them. Today while I was getting ready in the bathroom, this is the conversation I overheard in the bedroom, where Ellie had found some coins and Brady finally agreed to let her play with them.

Brady: Here, let me show you a game. See this side? This is called "heads" because it has a head on it. So this side is called "tails." So when I throw it in the air, you guess which side will land up by saying "heads" or "tails."

Ellie: No, I want it.

Brady: Just a minute. First you have to guess. Say "heads" or "tails."

Ellie: Heads or tails. [who didn't see that one coming?]

Brady: No, you have to pick one. Say "heads," or say "tails."

Ellie: No, I'm gonna pick tummies.

Brady: No, look. There aren't any tummies on the coin. Just heads or tails. See? I'm going to toss it and guess heads. Look--I was right.

Ellie: Now I'm going to teach you a game. It's called "Krauger aaannd . . . Snails."

At this point I had to rush off to choir practice, but I'm willing to bet that Krauger and Snails is a lot like Head and Tails, only with Ellie throwing all the coins but still getting to keep them all in the end, no matter how they land. We've already decided she's coming with us to negotiate terms when we're ready to buy our next car.

And sometimes it takes 30 minutes just to change the sheets

Which isn't so bad when you consider that also includes making a ship for space pirates' travel and a cave for hiding from dragons.

The Inadvertent (Intermittent?) Housekeeper

This is Ellie playing with her new "telescope." About a month ago I caught her walking out of the kitchen with a mostly full roll of paper towels. I stopped her and told her that those were for cleaning, not playing. She turned back, looked at me and said, "Sorry about this, Mommy. I'm so, so sorry about this, Mommy," and then continued walking out. Wait--what? I stopped her again and told her she could have one paper towel to play with and promised her the telescope inside once the roll was empty. She just now finally got her telescope. Does it seriously take me that long to go through a roll of paper towels? Part of me would like to think it's because I'm so environmentally conscious, but another part of me suspects I just don't really clean the windows or mirrors enough, let alone other messes around the house.

Don't be alarmed. The house is sanitary enough. I'm no fanatic, but I have my limits on what I will tolerate. I try to keep order, and get a good routine going for a while, and then my back goes out, or we all get sick and the routine goes out the window and we go into survival mode. I find an orderly house comforting, a broad expanse of newly vacuumed carpet soothing, a kitchen with all the dishes put away relaxing, and a tidy bathroom is so pleasant. But I also know my limits of health and energy and kids the ages mine are. So we do our best. 

I mean well, with a list of to-do's every day. Sometimes I feel bad for not getting to everything on the list, until I realize just how much I actually do get done every day, just not the things on the list. Who plans to scrub a 15-month-old's scribbles off the walls, or sop up the spilled liquid hand soap-turned-skating-rink on the bathroom floor (the three-year-old's ingenious idea) when they get up in the morning? Or who can forget this lovely spill? One time while I was scooping up a pile of Cheerios that Ellie had spilled all over the living room floor, the thought actually crossed my mind to just leave it there since Charlie seems to prefer to eat things off the floor than off his plate. Maybe I'll just sprinkle green vegetables behind me as I vacuum next time.

Someday my house will be perpetually tidy. People will drop by unannounced and it will look like I was just sitting there waiting for them to come over and inspect. In the meantime, I will start the day with a blank to-do list and fill it in as I go and see just how much housekeeping I actually get done during a day, rather than how much I don't get done. That or get the kids to only spill Cheerios on the floor on Mondays and Thursdays when I plan to vacuum, spill juice in the kitchen on Saturday when I was going to mop anyway, and save wetting the bed for laundry day. (Oh, who am I kidding? Every day is laundry day.)